Danger In The Healing
by Heather68
Summary: What if Harry found out that Dumbeldore was dying, and what Snape's role was in it all? What if Harry then had to depend on the person he hated most in the world to honor Dumbledore's dying wishes?
1. Chapter 1

_**Co-Written with stormypup **_

**Disclaimer: **A large part of the first chapter is taken straight from chapter 25 of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and belongs to J.K. Rowling, as does a good portion of chapter two. These have been modified by the authors to fit with the challenge. Chapter three onward was written solely by the authors using JKR's characters.

**A/N: **This was written for the Written for Wave XII of the Harry/Snape fqf fest. This fanfiction is a complete work (25 chapters in all) and shall be updated every Weekend between Friday and Sunday. I'd have to throw much love and many sugary sweets at my beta-reader, NSW, who put up with our horrible all-nighter grammar skills.

_**  
Chapter One**_

_Chapter 25- The Seer Overheard pg. 548-549 (Half-Blood Prince)  
_

"_Professor Snape made a terrible-"_

_"Don't tell me it was a mistake, sir, he was listening at the door!"_

_"Please let me finish." Dumbledore waited until Harry had nodded curtly, then went on. "Professor Snape made a terrible mistake. He was still in Lord Voldemort's employ on the night he heard the first half of Professor Trelawney's prophecy. Naturally, he hastened to tell his master what he had heard, for it concerned his master most deeply. But he did not know- he had no possible way of knowing - which boy Voldemort would hunt from then onward, or that the parents he would destroy in his murderous quest were people that Professor Snape knew, that they were your mother and father-"_

_Harry let out a yell of mirthless laughter._

_"He hated my dad like he hated Sirius! Haven't you noticed, Professor, how the people Snape hates tend to end up dead?"_

_"You have no idea of the remorse Professor Snape felt when he realized how Lord Voldemort had interpreted the prophecy, Harry. I believe it to be the biggest regret of his life and the reason that he returned-"_

_"But he's a very good Occlumens, isn't he sir?" said Harry, whose voice was shaking with the effort of keeping it steady. "And isn't Voldemort convinced that Snape's on his side, even now? Professor... how can you be sure Snape's on our side?"_

Dumbledore did not speak for a moment; he looked as though he was trying to make up his mind about something. At last, he spoke. "Harry, I believe it is time for some truths to be revealed."

"Blinky!" Dumbledore called and a house elf appeared with a pop.

"Yes Headmaster Dumbledore sir, how can Blinky be helping you?" the elf asked, bowing at Dumbledore.

"Would you please find Professor Snape and ask him to come to my office?" he asked, smiling pleasantly.

"Yes sir, right away sir," Blinky said, and with another bow and a pop, was gone.

Dumbledore returned his attention to Harry. "Would you care for some tea while we wait?" he asked, smiling.

Harry scowled, and folded his arms across his chest. "I don't see why he needs to be here, sir."

"Patience, Harry," said Dumbledore as he conjured a tea tray out of thin air. Harry clenched his jaw and looked at the sleeping portraits of the previous headmasters.

"I still don't understand, Professor."

"And therein lies the problem, Harry," Dumbledore said, pouring a cup of tea and passing it to Harry before pouring his own.

"No doubt Professor Snape is going to be quite vexed at my decision, but I see no way around it," Dumbledore said, staring into his tea. "This cannot continue, there is too much at stake," he said, so quietly it was almost as though he were talking to himself.

He looked at Harry, his eyes intense. "Harry, I will have you word that nothing, not a single word, of what is said in this room tonight will reach the ears of another living soul. Not Miss Granger, nor Mister Weasley," he said grimly. "The fate of all depends on it."

Harry took an unintentional step backwards as if making to flee the office. But he nodded curtly and kept his ground. Too much was riding on this now and he wasn't leaving until all his questions were answered.

"I promise, but I tell Ron and Hermione everything, sir, why can't I-"

"No!" Dumbledore sat angrily, getting to his feet. Using his good hand, he leaned on his desk, his eyes boring into Harry. "No one, Potter," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "If you cannot make this promise to me now, then it saddens me to say that we are done here tonight," he said, leaving the threat to hang heavily in the air.

Harry's eyes widened minutely. He immediately dropped all his arguments in face of being forcibly removed from the office. There had been very few times when he had seen Dumbledore look at him with such annoyance.

"I'm sorry, sir," he apologized. He still didn't understand what was so important that he couldn't even tell his friends but he wouldn't push the topic and he wouldn't tell them. Something about the stern gaze the elderly man was fixing him told Harry he would be found out.

The knock on the door broke the tension in the air. Dumbledore sat heavily in his chair, knowing that the fight with Harry was nothing compared to the wrath of Severus when he informed him of his decision.

"Come in," he called tiredly.

Severus Snape stepped through the door, looking irritated. His irritation turned to outright anger when he saw Potter sitting there.

"You asked to see me, Headmaster?" he said, closing the door and scowling at Harry.

Dumbledore smiled at Severus and conjured another chair. "Thank you for joining us, Professor Snape," he said, motioning to the chair. "Please, sit."

Still scowling, Snape took the chair, scooting it a few inches away from Potter. Whatever the Headmaster had to say, Snape was fairly certain he didn't want to hear it. Nothing that had come from Dumbledore's mouth in the last year had been pleasant, especially for him.

Harry's eye twitched when the Potion Master spoke. He just wanted to wrap his hands around the man's throat and choke him. If Dumbledore wasn't in the room with them Harry wasn't sure what he would have done.

Instead, he fixed the headmaster with a glare that could rival Snape's.

"Well, he's here now," Harry practically spat with frustration.

Snape's head snapped around, his eyes boring into Harry's. "You insolent --"

"Enough!" Dumbledore cried angrily, slamming his good hand on the table. The witches and wizards who had been dozing in the portraits jumped, joining their colleagues in watching the spectacle in Dumbledore's office.

"This has gone on quite long enough! Harry, you will show Professor Snape the respect he is due," he warned angrily.

Snape's look of triumph was short lived. "And Severus!" Dumbledore said, turning his glare onto Snape. "You will not goad the boy."

Snape began to protest almost immediately. "Headmaster! I must insist that --"

"No, Severus," Albus said, his voice cold, "I must insist!" he said, staring the man down. With a final scowl at Harry, Snape folded his arms across his chest and glared at Dumbledore.

Harry was stuck at a crossroad. Part of him wished to spit out that the greasy bat didn't deserve even a smidge of respect, but that side was easily quelled.

"Yes, sir," he ground out. But he wouldn't apologize, not today, not ever, no matter what he found out. There was nothing that Snape could tell him that Harry would believe at face value.

Dumbledore took a calming sip of tea. There were so many things he wished he could have done differently...but there was no time for self-pity. There was too much still to be done.

"Harry, as you know, my hand was damaged when I destroyed Marvolo Gaunt's ring," he said, directing his attention to Harry. "While Professor Snape was able to slow the progress of the curse, there is nothing on earth that can completely halt its affects. As such, I have grown progressively weaker," he said, for once, allowing Harry to see how truly exhausted he was. "I am afraid, that I haven't much time left, not nearly enough to see you through what must be done."

His eyes softened as he looked at Harry. "I know that I have let you down in many ways Harry," he said tiredly, "but I hope that you know that I have always tried to do what is in your best interest."

Harry felt stranded. He knew Dumbledore was old, he had seen him looking careworn before but it was nothing compared to now.

"No," he said in disbelief. There was no way he was going to accept the fact that Dumbledore was dying. "Sir, why are you saying this?"

Dumbledore smiled gently at Harry. "Because Harry, you must know what is happening, and you must be prepared. I am dying. There is no cure and no way around it, and that is a fact that must be faced."

Harry sunk down in a chair that suddenly materialized behind him. He shook his head even as Dumbledore's voice repeated in his head. 'I am dying. There is no cure and no way around it...'

Harry let out a bark of hysterical laughter, ignoring the rooms other occupant for the moment. His anger had abated, but it was overwhelmed by shock and horror.

"How long?" he asked tremulously.

Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I cannot give you an exact time, Harry, but I can tell you that the curse is progressing faster, the affects becoming more devastating which each day that passes. However, I am not dead yet," he said, smiling at Harry.

"As it stands, the only people who know of the true nature of this curse are now sitting in this room," he said, looking between Snape and Harry.

Snape's body was rigid and he was staring at the desk in front of him, not meeting the Headmaster's eyes. Dumbledore had been his salvation, and his anchor, and though he'd had time to accept it, he still didn't want to believe that anything could bring the man down.

"Sir?" Harry questioned, stealing a quick glance at the Potion's Master. The bastard didn't even look like he cared one whit about the news. Harry's anger flared for a moment before cooling. "Why did you order Sn- Professor Snape to come here?"

He frowned inwardly he had managed to catch himself before he slipped up too badly. There were some things he'd rather not face and Dumbledore's wrath was one of them. Harry didn't like angering him; Snape on the other hand was a completely different story.

Snape's gaze darted to Harry then to Albus. It was a good question, though he would never admit it to Potter. Why was he here?

As if reading his mind, Dumbledore nodded at Severus. "I'm certain that Professor Snape is asking himself the self the same question," he said, smiling at Snape, whose lip curled in irritation.

"There are things that will forever remain between Professor Snape and myself," he said, looking pointedly at Harry. "And unless he himself chooses to tell you -"

"Not likely," Snape scoffed, sneering at Harry.

"- Then they are things you will just have to learn to live without knowing, Harry. However, there are matters that are my secrets to tell, though Professor Snape will no doubt disagree."

Dumbledore looked at Snape, whose eyes were beginning to widen with comprehension. "Professor Snape has taken a vow, under duress, that should the need arise --"

Snape shot to his feet. "You will not tell him," he hissed, slamming his hands down on Dumbledore's desk.

Harry jolted at Snape's fit of rage. The git could be awfully frightening at times and this was one of them. What was Dumbledore about to say that caused the man to react so violently? Something about a vow. But vows were made all the time and not kept so why was this one so important.

Harry knew he was about to wade into murky waters but he had to know. If Dumbledore thought it important enough then he would treat it with as much respect as he could muster. That was considering it was about Snape and not really the old man himself.

"A vow, sir?" He ignored Snape's murderous glare in favor of watching Dumbledore before him.

"Severus, the boy must know," Dumbledore said calmly, quite familiar with Snape's bouts of rage. "It is time for us all to look at the big picture," he said, getting to his feet and placing a hand on Snape's shoulder.

Dumbledore waited until Snape looked at him, their eyes locking before he continued. "I'm am sorry, Severus, but it is time," he said softly.

Snape whirled around, breaking Dumbledore's grip on him and began angrily pacing the confines of the office. "And I have no say in this?" he asked, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

Dumbledore watched him sadly. "I'm sorry my boy, but not this time," Albus said gently.

Snape stopped at the mantle and braced his hands against it, staring into the fire, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the marble.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, returning his attention to Harry, "there are things in motion, things that I cannot give you full details about, however, the day may come that, for the greater good, Professor may be forced to kill me himself, and has given me his vow that he will do so," he finished.

"HE'S GOING TO DO WHAT?!" Harry shouted, leaping to his feet. "Have you finally gone barmy! No offense, sir, but that is the single most stupid thing I have ever heard in my entire life!"

He glared at Snape's turned back with a look of disgust. "Snape, you agreed to this!?"

Snape's teeth clenched at Harry's outburst. He wanted to grab the brat and throw him against a wall. Fearing that if he looked at him, he would do just that, Snape continued staring into the fire.

"I'm afraid I didn't give Severus much choice," Dumbledore said, walking around his desk to stand beside Harry. "Harry, you must understand," he said, forcing Harry's attention back to himself. "I am dying, nothing can stop that now, and nothing good can come of that. However, if Professor Snape were to end my life himself, think of the advantage it will bring to our side. Professor Snape will solidify his place in Voldemort's inner circle, virtually guaranteeing that he will be there to help you when the time comes," Dumbledore said reasonably.

Harry backpedaled rapidly as his brain came to a screeching halt. He pinched his arm and scowled. Yes, that did hurt. His eyes boggled as he took a few hesitant steps towards the door.

"I am not hearing this," he reassured himself. It didn't matter to him that Snape's position with the Dark Lord would be solidified. It didn't matter that Dumbledore had forced the matter either. "This is not happening, I am not hearing this," he repeated for good measure, looking at the surrounding portraits for help but none was forthcoming.

Snape was seething. Did the foolish boy honestly believe he wanted this?

"Harry, you must understand the sacrifice Professor Snape is making for all of us," Albus began, but Snape cut him off.

"As if Potter can understand anything!" Snape spat, turning so quickly his robes snapped. "You are wasting your time Albus," he said, glaring daggers at Harry. "And mine."

Harry barely registered Dumbledore's answer before Snape made a comment.

"Well, maybe if you pulled that giant stick out of your arse Professor and tried to explain to me what the hell is going on, I might understand something!" Harry seethed. His eyes flashed angrily as he rounded on his potions professor. "Perhaps I don't understand how someone supposedly smart falls in with the wrong crowd! Maybe there's the smallest chance that I want actual answers for once and not half-truths and riddles!"

The last bit was aimed mainly at Dumbledore even though he was still glaring daggers at Snape. Harry knew he had to calm down before he did something incredibly stupid like hexing his professor to hell and back.

Snape saw red. Before he knew it, he had Harry by the front of his robes and was holding him up against the wall. "You will not speak to me this way, Potter," he hissed, spittle flying from his mouth.

"Severus!" Dumbledore cried, using all his strength to pull Snape off of Harry. The two men stood glaring at one another as Dumbledore sagged against his desk.

"Unacceptable," Dumbledore said tiredly. "You are both acting like children and I will not have it!" he finished, his voice rising.

Harry growled low in the back of his throat and shoved himself forcefully away from Snape. Dumbledore's words rolled over him and while it served to stop his immediate need to kick Snape in the balls it did nothing to stop the rage that coursed through him.

Dumbledore was disappointed in him again and he found himself really not caring one lick if he had upset the old man all his thoughts all his energy was focused on giving Snape the ugliest dirtiest look he could muster. He was too riled to even say anything in retort.

Snape turned on Dumbledore. "I did not ask for this, Albus!" he said through clenched teeth. "I warned you not to tell Potter, that it would change nothing," he ground out. "Tell him what you will, but I will not sit here and be insulted by him any longer," he spat, and with a final glare at Harry, swept from the room, the door slamming behind him.

Shit. Harry deflated the moment the door shut. He sunk back down into his chair and buried his face in his hands. He was no better than Snape was. And there was no amount of apologies he could give that would make what he just said and did forgivable. No, Dumbledore would be right to be disappointed in him. Harry was disappointed with himself.

"Sir," he said quietly, hunching forward on his chair. "I'm sorry. I just. Sn-Professor Snape just makes me so..." He grunted wishing he could formulate a correct opinion on his feelings towards the overgrown bat.

"Angry?" Dumbledore supplied with a sad smile. "Professor Snape is certainly not the easiest man to get along with," Dumbledore said, moving around his desk to sit heavily in his chair.

"Oh Harry," Dumbledore said, still looking sad. "I wish you could understand the sacrifices Professor Snape has made, particularly for you," he added and held up his hand to forestall Harry from speaking. "The number of times he has saved you, and protected you," he said, sighing.

"No matter," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "There are many things I wish I could tell you, but as I said, they are not my secrets to tell. I can only ask, once again, that you trust me, and my decision, even if you do not trust Professor Snape. I trust him with my life, Harry. Not only to save it, but to take it, which is a decision I wish on no man, not even Professor Snape."

Harry really wanted to nod and get this conversation over with, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Because to be honest, he didn't want to understand. He didn't want that knowledge that everything he held dear could easily be scattered to the four winds.

In theory, he understood perfectly what Dumbledore's trust in Snape meant and what it meant to be told this, but in practice, Harry wasn't sure he could trust himself to not stop Snape from killing the old man.

The problem with speaking with Dumbledore was he always left having more questions than answers. He didn't want to understand what it meant that Snape had saved him, because if he let himself think about it, he would discover it was true. He wanted to continue to live with blinders on, he wanted to go about thinking Snape was the Death Eater scum of the Earth. He didn't want to place the man in any other role.

But Dumbledore was looking at him expectantly and Harry knew he had to say something, only, for the first time that meeting he found himself clueless as to what to say. Saying he understood would be the easiest answer, but Dumbledore like Snape was an accomplished Legilimens and would probably be able to tell he was lying in a heartbeat.

"I wish I understood better, sir," Harry mumbled folding his hand in his lap. "I wish I understood why, but I...I trust you."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "Professor Snape is you best asset for finding the remaining Horcrux when I'm gone, Harry and I can only hope that you will let him help," Dumbledore said, and sighed deeply.

"Which leads me to the original purpose of our meeting tonight," Dumbledore said, his smile returning. "I believe that I have located another Horcrux."

**A/N: **The Next Chapter will most likely be updated Friday. Hope you enjoyed this one!

Please Review. Constructive criticism is welcome.**  
**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Co-Written with stormypup **_

**Disclaimer: **A large part of the first chapter is taken straight from chapter 25 of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and belongs to J.K. Rowling, as does a good portion of chapter two. These have been modified by the authors to fit with the challenge. Chapter three onward was written solely by the authors using JKR's characters.

**A/N: **This was written for the Written for Wave XII of the Harry/Snape fqf fest. This fanfiction is a complete work (25 chapters in all) and shall be updated every Weekend between Friday and Sunday. I'd have to throw much love and many sugary sweets at my beta-reader, NSW, who put up with our horrible all-nighter grammar skills.

Also, I'd like to especially thank everyone who reviewed. You people brighten up our days in innumerable ways.

**Chapter Two**

Harry wanted to kick and scream as he watched them, but he couldn't move and he couldn't speak. He just couldn't stand it. The ferret was trembling and shaking and backing down, but Harry couldn't tear his eyes away from Dumbledore's frail frame. The old man was quaking and the light that shone brightly through his eyes was fading rapidly. Harry's heart missed a beat. This was it. This was what Dumbledore had tried to warn him of earlier and it wasn't anymore fair now than it had been then.

He was going to be stuck there, immobilized, as he watched his mentor, his teacher, and his grandfather die slowly before him. The hoary old man seemed to barely have any strength anymore and Harry almost wished Malfoy would just take his life and spare him the pain. He never thought he would want that, but seeing it clearly, the effect that the poison was having on the old man's body was just to horrifying to witness.

There was a lull in activity in the tower as Malfoy completely lowered his wand with a frightened look. If Harry had half a heart it would have gone out to the blonde but then his entire mind was focused on the fact that the door had just burst open emitting four masked Death Eaters and of all people, Snape.

Snape's mind was still reeling when he burst through the door at the top of the tower. He'd had no warning of the attack, not even a hint of what was to come. And now he was faced with the hardest decision of his life.

Kill Dumbledore and lose his soul, or break his vow to Narcissa and lose his life.

Dumbledore's eyes met his and Snape's heart shattered into a million pieces. "Severus...please..." Dumbledore said, pleading with Severus to do what he knew he had to do, his soul be damned.

Snape steeled himself, shutting down all emotion, before raising his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!" he cried, his voice steady, despite his inner turmoil. With those two simple words, his friend, the only man who had ever believed him and seen his worth, was dead, and there was nothing he could do to bring him back.

There was a pause where no one moved as Dumbledore's body fell from the tower. Harry's heart fell to his stomach and then time sped up again like a twisted version of a girl's jewelry box wound too tight.

The Death Eaters- Dumbledore had called them by name, but Harry scarcely remembered them now- along with Snape and Malfoy were the only people moving in the room. . Snape had Malfoy by the collar of his robes and was forcing him out of the room.

They had disappeared from sight before Harry realized one important fact. He was free. The _Immobulus_ charm was broken with Dumbledore's death. With every ounce of grief he could muster, he propelled himself out the door, invisibility cloak be damned.

Every inch of him ached as he ran down the steps of Hogwarts castle and he was certain he was crying but he didn't have time to dwell on this further. He pushed himself to go faster as he made it out the entrance hall onto the darkened grounds.

"SNAPE!" He hollered pouring all his grief, frustration and anger into that one word.

"Damn it, Potter," Snape growled low. "Run, Draco!" he yelled, his top priority was getting Draco safely away. There was going to be hell to pay for him with the Dark Lord and Snape couldn't leave him alone for long.

Snape whirled, wand held high. "What?! Unless you're going to kill me, Potter, I do not have time for this!"

"Make time, Snape!" Harry spat out angrily.

"Self involved brat," Snape growled, his eyes darting around looking for danger in the chaos while jabbing his other hand into his robes. Pulling his hand out, Snape stalked over to Harry and shoved his wand up underneath his chin. "I'm going to hand you a paper, Potter. Memorize the address. The paper will dissolve in 30 seconds. Make fast use of that feeble brain of yours, and show it to NO ONE!" he emphasized with a hiss, shoving the paper into Potter's hand.

Snape stepped back in time to see three Death Eaters running their way. "Now run, you fool," he ordered, raising his wand he sent a stinging hex at Potter.

Harry clutched the paper tightly in his hand as he dodged the hex that was sent his way. He whirled around and cast _incendio_, but his aim was off and it hit the ground by Snape's feet. Now he only had ten seconds to memorize a piece of paper as he ran back towards the castle.

He unwrinkled it as he pelted faster across the grounds. It was an address, just as Snape had said, half of him was relieved that it hadn't exploded in his face yet. The address was simple enough to memorize: _7 Eremite Lane_. That was it. No instructions, no indication as to what that meant just an address and Harry? He memorized it like it was the last thing he would ever see.

But soon enough something else caught his eyes. His stomach clenched painfully as he scrambled forward towards Hagrid's hut. The piece of parchment dissolved into ash in his hands and he let it go. He stumbled toward the burning house as an enormous figure emerged from out of the flames carrying Fang on his back. With a thankful cry, Harry sank to his knees; he was shaking in every limb, his body ached all over, and his breath came in painful stabs.

Snape watched Harry long enough to ensure none of the other Death Eaters would be stupid enough to attack Harry before turning tail running after Draco. He had to get Draco somewhere safe, somewhere the Dark Lord could not find him. Dumbledore's secondary goal had been to prevent Draco from taking that last step, committing full out murder, and now it fell to Snape to keep Draco alive, while still keeping himself in the Dark Lord's good graces.

He reached the apparation point to find Draco waiting for him with wide eyed with panic.

"Professor?" Draco asked, looking around him as the others began to disapparate.

"Not a word," Snape hissed, and grabbing on to Draco, he apparated the two of them away.

* * *

"Yeh all righ', Harry? Yeh all righ'? Speak ter me, Harry..." 

Hagrid's huge, hairy face was swimming above Harry, blocking out the stars. Harry could smell burnt wood and dog hair; he put out a hand and felt Fang's reassuringly warm and alive body quivering beside him.

"I'm all right," panted Harry. "Are you?"

"'Course I am...take more'n that ter finish me."

Hagrid put his hands under Harry's arms and raised him up with such force that Harry's feet momentarily left the ground before Hagrid set him upright again. He could see blood trickling down Hagrid's cheek from a deep cut under one eye, which was swelling rapidly.

"We should put out your house," said Harry, "the charm's 'Aguamenti'..."

"Knew it was summat like that," mumbled Hagrid, and he raised a smoldering pink, flowery umbrella tip. Harry raised his wand arm, which felt like lead, and murmured "Aguamenti" too. Together, he and Hagrid poured water on the house until the last flame was extinguished.

"S'not too bad," said Hagrid hopefully a few minutes later, looking at the smoking wreck. "Nothin' Dumbledore won' be able to put righ'..."

Harry froze. He forgot. No one knew yet, no one but him, Malfoy, Snape, and a few Death Eaters. He couldn't tell Hagrid who killed Dumbledore. It would be betraying Dumbledore and Snape's trust and he wasn't going to refuse a dead man's request, but he couldn't just leave Hagrid to his delusions. Harry ached, searing pain rent through his stomach at his impossible task. Just hearing the old man's name hurt, but the knowledge that he was the only one left at Hogwarts who knew why scared him more than anything.

"Hagrid..."

"I was bindin' up a couple o' bowtruckle legs when I heard 'em comin'," said Hagrid sadly, still staring at his wrecked cabin. "They'll've bin burnt ter twigs, poor little things..."

"Hagrid..."

"But what happened, Harry? I jus' saw them Death Eaters runnin' down from the castle, but what the ruddy hell was Snape doin' with 'em? Where's he gone-was he chasin' them?"

Harry cleared his throat nervously. He had rather hoped no one had seen Snape flee with Malfoy but obviously someone more than hated him today.

"He..." He coughed, panic flooding his senses. He looked around the scorch marked ground looking for anything, anything that could help him explain away what Hagrid saw, but then Hagrid supplied it for him.

"What musta happened was, Dumbledore musta told Snape ter go with them Death Eaters," Hagrid said confidently. "I suppose he's gotta keep his cover. Look, let's get yeh back up ter the school. Come on, Harry..."

"Yeah," agreed Harry quickly. He silently thanked whoever was listening for Rubeus Hagrid and his sense of loyalty. "I didn't even see him leave." He winced at his own lie. The one person he didn't want to ever have to lie to again was Hagrid. The giant of a man would find out the partial truth soon enough...too soon, in his opinion.

As they headed back towards the castle, Harry's mind drifted. Hagrid would lead him if he fell off course. In his mind he could see all the students talking in hushed whispers about how Death Eaters had gotten in and the Dark Mark was hanging above the school. Cruelly, the green glowing bright against the night sky mocked him and his long list of failures that evening.

He could have prevented Dumbledore's death from happening this soon. He could have stopped feeding the poison to the old man. Dumbledore might have hated his cowardice but at least he would have lived to see another night. He would have been here now to guide the students through this scare. Surely Dumbledore's disappointment would be easier to cope with, easier to deal with than this.

Harry wrapped his arms around himself tightly and squeezed his eyes shut as the world began to tilt in an alarming fashion. Everything was moving too fast, and the weight of what had happened crashed down around him. Snape...he had killed Dumbledore. Dumbledore was dead. Dumbledore's body would be resting at the base of the tallest tower, completely still.

"What're they all lookin' at?"

Hagrid's voice broke through Harry's spiraling thoughts and brought his attention back to the present. Harry felt nauseous as Hagrid started to steer him towards the foot of the Astronomy Tower. There was a small crowd gathering at its base and Harry struggled against Hagrid's grasp, but if the half-giant noticed, he didn't let him go.

In an oddly detached way, Harry allowed himself to be pushed through the crowd to the front. But now that he was already there, he found himself continuing on and crouched down beside Dumbledore. He had known there was no hope from the moment that the full Immobulus charm Dumbledore had placed upon him lifted, known that it could have happened only because the caster was dead. There was still no preparation for seeing him here, spread-eagled, broken: the greatest wizard Harry had ever, or would ever, meet.

Dumbledore's eyes were closed; but for the strange angle of his arms and legs, he might have been sleeping. Harry reached out, straightened the half-moon spectacles upon the crooked nose, and wiped a trickle of blood from the mouth with his own sleeve. Then he gazed down at the wise old face and tried to absorb the enormous and incomprehensible truth: that never again would Dumbledore speak to him, never again could he help...

He let out a shaky breath, close to tears, but none were forthcoming. He wanted to hit the man, wanted to break him as if he could feel it for leaving him like this. There were still so many questions he had left unanswered and the biggest mystery of all was Snape.

As he moved to stand on unsteady legs, he realized he had been kneeling on something aside from the ground. It was the locket, the one that had been so important only hours ago and now didn't even seem worth the effort they put into it. He picked it up, turning it over and over in his hands and realizing the flaw with it. There were no markings of any kind marring the surface, from his perspective it was a perfectly ordinary locket. The ornate "S" that was supposed to be gracing the back wasn't there. Slowly, he began to realize what this meant. This wasn't the right locket.

His hands were trembling badly as he fumbled with the clasp and it sprung open. It was empty save for a tiny scrap of parchment that he pulled out now. He pocketed it, not having the heart to read the note that told him beyond a shadow of a doubt that this wasn't the Horcrux. Dumbledore had drunk a basin full of poisoning, weakened himself beyond repair, for a cheap muggle trinket.

Then, suddenly, a soft hand slipped into his own, breaking his dazed stare. He allowed himself to be pulled away from the dead corpse without complaint. The sight sickened him now. He was beginning to wonder if Dumbledore had known this from the start. If he had known that tonight's escapade would be fruitless. If, deep down, the old man had copped out on him, just when he was truly beginning to understand what it was he needed to do.

Ginny was leading him in silence back towards the castle, he realized in the midst of his thoughts.

"Where are we going?" he whispered brokenly. She paused mid-step and looked at him as if he were about to collapse.

"Hospital wing."

"I'm not hurt."

"It's McGonagall's orders," said Ginny. "Everyone's up there, Ron, Hermione, Lupin, everyone-"

Harry nodded, fear creeping into his heart and grasping it in a strangle hold. It hadn't even occurred to him that others could have been hurt or worse- dead.

He followed Ginny in worried silence and found himself entering into chaos unlike he had ever seen. Hermione came flying out of nowhere and embraced him roughly. For once, he didn't mind, because it meant she was alive. He returned her embrace and nobody said anything for a moment. Lupin was making his way over to him worriedly, but Harry's gaze was already on a bed not too far from where he was standing. Bill was lying on it, his face almost completely unrecognizable. Madame Pomfrey was rubbing some sort of disgusting smelling ointment on his face.

"Why aren't you using a charm...or something?" he asked when the matron caught his gaze. He recalled his encounter with Malfoy and how Snape had been able to mend the blonde's wounds easily with a spell.

"Nothing seems to be working on these," Madame Pomfrey answered with a deeply troubled expression. "I've tried everything I know, but there is no cure for werewolf bites."

"But he wasn't bitten at the full moon," said Ron, who was gazing down at his brother's face as though he could somehow force him to mend just by staring. "Greyback hadn't transformed, so surely Bill won't be a - a real -?"

Harry's heart sunk at this. The news of how Bill's face got this way struck him hard. The face of the deranged man entered his mind; Harry pushed it out as he focused back in on the conversation at hand. Thinking about Fenrir Greyback brought back the harsh notion of Dumbledore's untimely demise and once again back to his own problem and he only wanted to be worried with the rest of the Weasleys. He didn't want his sodding destiny anymore. All he could think about was what he would have to do at the end of the year. Dumbledore had sacrificed himself for Harry so he could continue on and he would not disappoint the old man again.

"Dumbledore might know something that'd work, though," Ron said. "Where is he? Bill fought those maniacs on Dumbledore's orders, Dumbledore owes him, he can't leave him in this state-"

"Ron, Dumbledore's dead," said Ginny.

"No!" Lupin looked wildly from Ginny to Harry as though hoping the latter might contradict her, but when Harry did not, Lupin collapsed into a chair beside Bill's bed, his hands over his face. Harry had never seen Lupin lose control before; he felt as though he was intruding upon something private, indecent. He turned away and caught Ron's eye instead, exchanging in silence a look that confirmed what Ginny had said.

"How did he die?" whispered Tonks. "How did it happen?"

"S..." Harry paused choking on the word. He had almost slipped up. Anxious faces were peering at him and he had to give them some answer. "A-a Death Eater killed him," true enough he supposed but these people were his family and he had to give them more than that. "We had just returned when we saw the Dark Mark above the Astronomy Tower. We went there and Dumbledore...he was ill, weak, but he must have known it was a trap because he immobilized me. I was under my invisibility cloak, and there were footsteps running up- and then Malfoy came through the door and disarmed him-"

Harry was vaguely aware of the horrified and disgusted faces of his audience as he spun his warped tale.

"More Death Eaters arrived and then one of them raised their wand and did it- the killing curse."

Harry trailed off, drained. He couldn't go on even if he wanted to without giving something away. They seemed to realize this as well. Their faces were pale and drawn and Ginny was hugging him this time. He rested his chin against her shoulder, his arms going around her waist. No one was all right.

Somewhere in the distance a phoenix was singing. The song rang true to his soul, and for the first time that day, Harry let himself cry.

* * *

**A/N: **The next chapter will be updated next Friday. I hope you enjoyed! 

Please Review!


	3. Chapter 3

_**Co-Written with stormypup **_

**Disclaimer: **A large part of the first chapter is taken straight from chapter 25 of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and belongs to J.K. Rowling, as does a good portion of chapter two. These have been modified by the authors to fit with the challenge. Chapter three onward was written solely by the authors using JKR's characters.

**A/N: **This was written for the Written for Wave XII of the Harry/Snape fqf fest. This fanfiction is a complete work (25 chapters in all) and shall be updated every Weekend between Friday and Sunday. I'd have to throw much love and many sugary sweets at my beta-reader, NSW, who put up with our horrible all-nighter grammar skills. Also, this is the start of the first chapter no longer based on canon directly so (crosses fingers)

I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed the last two chapters and because of that I am updating with two chapters tonight. Yup, that's right. You get chapters three and four! Three is really short compared to others as well which is the other reason why.

**Chapter Three**

Despite the fact that he was beyond exhausted, Severus Snape held his wand at the ready as he turned the doorknob to Number 7 Eremite Lane. The wards seemed to be undisturbed, but he was taking no chances, certainly not now.

Snape stepped into the small cottage and quietly closed the door behind him. He stilled, listening to the silence a moment before calling out, "Draco!"

A moment later, Draco Malfoy's head peeked around the corner before darting out of sight once again. "Password," Draco ordered, though the tremor in his voice was unmistakable.

"Echis carinatus," Snape replied, glad to see the boy wasn't a complete imbecile and had asked the password before allowing him inside completely unchallenged.

Draco entered the room now, his eyes darting around a bit maniacally. "What happened?" Draco asked anxiously, as Snape went to the sideboard and poured himself a small glass of whiskey. He would have liked to down the whole bottle, but he had to remain alert.

"The Dark Lord has ordered that you be brought to him immediately," Snape said, tossing back the whiskey. He closed his eyes for a moment and focused on the pleasant burn in his throat.

"Please don't take me," Draco said, terrified.

Snape whirled on him. "Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. He was in no mood for hysterics, least of all from Draco Malfoy. Had the boy come to him and told him what was going on, they could have found another way, but now it was far too late for that.

"He believes you to be on the run and I encouraged that belief," Snape hissed. "Do not leave this house and do not contact anyone. Are we clear on that, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked.

Draco ran his hands through his hair. "My mother --"

"Your mother knows I will protect you!" Snape said, cutting him off. "She is the least of your worries," Snape growled. "And if you think to contact your Aunt Bellatrix, you will find yourself on your knees before the Dark Lord before you can blink," he warned darkly. "She was particularly rabid tonight."

Snape paced the floor of the small room, his hand clenched reflexively around his wand. At the moment, he was the Dark Lord's most 'loyal and trusted' servant. He was the exact position Dumbledore had wished him to be.

Dumbledore.

"Professor?" Draco asked and Snape turned to him, scowling.

"Ask me no more questions tonight, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said irritably. "For now, you are safe and I need to think."

"But --"

"Enough!" Snape shouted, pointing his wand at Draco. "Not another word," he hissed, his temper rising again.

Draco stepped back, looking scared. "Go to bed, Draco," Snape said tiredly, lowering his wand.

Draco seemed to collect himself, standing up straighter. "Good night then, Professor," he said, and with a nod, took himself off to the smaller bedroom.

Snape waited until he heard the sound of the door closing before allowing himself to collapse on the couch.

Dumbledore was dead. He had killed him. Snape buried his face in his hands.

Potter had certainly told all and sundry that he had murdered Albus in cold blood. No doubt he was now at the top of the list of the Ministry Aurors, second only to Voldemort himself. If the boy was foolish enough to tell the Order the truth...

"Damn you, Albus," Snape muttered angrily.

Snape thought back to the day he returned to Dumbledore, full of remorse and self-loathing, seeking redemption. Snape couldn't help but wonder. Was redemption worth all of this?

Albus had assured him that in the end, the evidence of Snape's loyalty would be delivered to the Ministry. That should he survive the war, he would not spend the rest of his life in Azkaban, or worse, at the receiving end of a Dementor's kiss.

Snape knew the realities of life, and laid no hope in Dumbledore's plan for his acquittal should he ever to go trial. No doubt the contents of Dumbledore's penseive will be called fabrications, the papers Dumbledore had left, forgeries. The brat who lived would no doubt renounce him as a cold-blooded murdered, despite any evidence to the contrary.

If Potter lived.

Snape got to his feet and began pacing the room in agitation once more. If the idiot boy got himself killed after everything that had been sacrificed to keep him alive, Snape would hunt down his soul and kill him again just out of spite. How many times had he been forced to save Potter's life in the last six years? If he were to die now, when they were so close to the end...

No, that was unacceptable. Snape would continue in his role as guardian and he would keep Potter alive. The boy would destroy the Dark Lord and Snape would be free of him.

Free of both of them.

Death was a freedom in itself, was it not? Perhaps that was the answer. If Potter were to fail, and the Dark Lord were to rise to full power once again, perhaps Snape would take the coward's way out. Drink a potion and be done with it.

And if Potter did succeed? Perhaps he would take the coward's way out. Drink a potion and be done with it.

Either way, Snape would finally have the freedom he had longed for these many years. A slave to no master, nor a prisoner of the fools at the Ministry.

But Severus Snape was no coward. He was a survivor and he would survive this as well. Potter would win, and Snape would disappear. Go live amongst the muggles in Russia, or America. He would do what it took to survive.

But first, he had to ensure that Potter survived.

Snape thought of the stack of parchment, hidden away in a secret compartment in his room down the hall. It was copies of all the information he and Dumbledore had been able to piece together about the missing Horcrux.

The Dark Lord had sent him into hiding, telling Snape that he would call for him soon. He knew they had very little time to find the remaining bits of Voldemort's soul, but he would find them and he would destroy them, as Dumbledore asked.

He couldn't help but wonder what else Dumbledore had told Potter when Snape had left the room. All Snape knew was that Albus intended for him to help Potter as much as he could while still keeping himself safe. Snape had to be at the Dark Lord's side during the final confrontation. He would do everything in his power to help Potter when the moment came.

Snape had given Potter the address to his current location, but had not yet given him the name of the village where the cottage was located. He was still unsure of whether or not he ever would. The cottage was protected under the Fidelis Charm, so he had no fear Potter would tell anyone else of its location. But, until he had a better understanding of the situation, he would keep his head down and go about searching for the Horcrux on his own.

His exhaustion finally beginning to overwhelm him, Snape walked slowly to his room. He removed his outer robes and his shoes before collapsing onto his bed.

By the time he awoke in the morning, the tears he had shed in his sleep would be gone, his pillow dry. Severus Snape had no time for grief. Not yet.

* * *

**A/N:** Carry on to chapter four! 

Please Review!


	4. Chapter 4

_**Co-Written with stormypup **_

**Disclaimer: **A large part of the first chapter is taken straight from chapter 25 of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and belongs to J.K. Rowling, as does a good portion of chapter two. These have been modified by the authors to fit with the challenge. Chapter three onward was written solely by the authors using JKR's characters.

**A/N: **This was written for the Written for Wave XII of the Harry/Snape fqf fest. This fanfiction is a complete work (25 chapters in all) and shall be updated every Weekend between Friday and Sunday. I'd have to throw much love and many sugary sweets at my beta-reader, NSW, who put up with our horrible all-nighter grammar skills. Also, this is the start of the first chapter no longer based on canon directly so (crosses fingers)

I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed the last two chapters and because of that I am updating with two chapters tonight. Yup, that's right. You get chapters three and four! Three is really short compared to others as well which is the other reason why.

**Chapter Four**

His window was open to let the night air in. The gentle breeze drifted lazily into his tiny bedroom, ruffling the half-written pieces of parchment on his desk. Green eyes surveyed the room with desperation. There had to be something he had overlooked. Why else would he still be pacing this late at night? He hadn't anticipated the arrival of an owl around midnight. The minute bird fluttered into his room gracelessly. It only paused for a moment before dive bombing his head and then falling to the floor.

"Pig," Harry grunted, quickly scooping the owl off the floor. The tiny owl hooted loudly and then bit his finger. Harry yelped, letting go of the bird and it sped back off into the night. He watched it go, irritated. What was so important that Ron had to send him an owl tonight? Picking the letter up off the ground, he hurriedly opened it. There were two pages.

_Harry,_

_How has your summer been so far, mate? It's crazy here. Fleur's family has shown up. Ginny's holed herself up in her room. She only comes out when Mum yells at her. I finally convinced Dad to let us come get you. Ginny jumped at the chance to help out. Wonder why. Frankly mate, she's gone a bit nutty without you. Don't tell her I told you that. I've been on the wrong end of her wand once this summer and she, well, you'll see tomorrow. _

_Hermione showed up yesterday and, she's gorgeous Harry, almost didn't recognize her at first. She hit me when I told her that and so did Ginny. Honestly, I don't understand girls at all. All I did was compliment her!_

Harry grinned at the large jagged line followed by a switch in handwriting. It seemed Hermione had seen what Ron was writing and felt the need to chime in.

_Harry, ignore Ron, we're coming to get you tomorrow at noon. It'll just be Ron, Ginny, and I since Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are…detained. You remember Gabrielle, Fleur's younger sister, correct? Well, it seems she is exactly like Fleur was when we first met her. I rather want to hex her false smile off her face. If not for my own piece of mind, but for Ginny's as well. But anyways, Harry, don't do anything rash between now and tomorrow. I know you want to run off and save the world, but for once, don't run away no matter how foul your relatives become. We're going to use a Portkey this time so be ready to answer the door.  
_

_Love,_

_Hermione and Ron_

_P.S.  
Have you read the Prophet recently? I know you are as adverse to that piece of trash as I am, but sometimes they print something of value. I enclosed the particular piece I'm talking about. I certainly am finding it hard to believe.  
_

Harry folded the letter, placed it on his desk, and focused his attention on the newspaper clipping. He had canceled his subscription to the prophet, once he realized that the paper had become something of a large collection of obituaries and articles asking where he was. But now, staring in horrified fascination at the fine parchment he was holding he realized that maybe canceling it hadn't been the smartest idea.

His heart jumped into his throat. Merlin, if Snape hadn't run before he would be now. Harry nursed the idea to fire call the address he was given, but if he did that, he'd have to from a secure location and the Dursley's fire wasn't connected to the floo and the Weasley's couldn't afford to have Harry sticking his head into an unknown fireplace. He grit his teeth as he stared at the picture. Like all wizarding photos it was moving, but this one was more blurry than usual. The caption read: Snape sighted in Irveness, photo taken by Georgina Laloc. Harry studied the grainy image uncertain of what to make of it. He knew instinctually that Snape was not stupid enough to wander into a fairly public setting. There was no doubt in his mind that this was a fake, but that still didn't quell his nausea.

For the first time he needed advice and there was no one he could go to. He ran a hand through his hair agitatedly; half tempted to burn the clipping before he even read it. But he had to know what it said, Hermione wasn't one to send him newspaper articles on a whim.

"Shit," he swore as he stared at the picture for another moment, before turning his attention on the actual article. It was shorter than he had anticipated not even two full paragraphs long.

_**Snape sighting, cause for alarm**_

_Yesterday afternoon, a faithful prophet reader submitted this photo for our readers. It is a frightening warning for any of us who live in lower Scotland. For all of those who haven't been following the news, Severus Snape was accused two weeks ago of murdering the late Albus Dumbledore. Based on an anonymous eyewitness tip-off, the ex-professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has been accused of murder and Death Eater activity._

_  
Up until a fortnight ago, there had been no leads that could tell us who had killed the headmaster. If anyone has seen Snape or heard anything else about this great travesty please owl Marina McKintle immediately.  
_  
The paper fell from his slackened hold, soundlessly falling to the ground.

* * *

Snape ran his fingers through his hair for the twentieth time that hour, oblivious to the greasy feel. Earlier he had gone out under the guise of polyjuice potion to get a copy of the Prophet and find out the latest news one. 

It was disturbing, but not surprising, to see that apparently the whole wizarding world was out looking for him, but he was pleased to see that this 'sighting' of him was no where near his actual location. He was confused by the fact that the article said it was a tip-off from an anonymous source that claimed he'd murdered Dumbledore.

Either Potter didn't have the bollocks to turn him in himself, or else the brat was actually thinking of the big picture for once. Snape paced in a circle, trying to decide what the next course of action should be.

Snape's last meeting with Voldemort had gone well. The Dark Lord was feeling confident of victory with Dumbledore out of the way and now it was just a matter of time before he went after Potter directly. The boy was quickly running out of time to find the remaining horcrux and destroy them.

He knew where Potter's relatives lived and knew that should the need arise, he could contact the boy, but he also knew he was running out of time there. Potter only had to stay there until he came of age, which was soon. He either had to contact him now, or would have to wait to track the brat down should he need him.

"Damn it all, Albus," he growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. Coming to a decision he tore off the corner of a piece of parchment and grabbed a quill. He quickly scribbled, Roundstone, Ireland, on the piece of parchment.

He hurried to the other room to find the old owl he had bought years ago and kept in his safe house for emergencies. Snape tied the small bit of parchment to the owl's leg with instructions to take it to Potter.

Snape would lie in wait for Potter to turn up. He would watch him long enough to be sure he didn't bring the whole of the Ministry down on his head before approaching him. One way or another, he was about to find out if the boy was a daft as he believed him to be.

Once the owl was off, Snape went to Draco's room and pounded on the door before entering, not bothering to wait for permission.

"We're leaving," Snape said, scowling at Draco who was lounging on the bed reading a Quidditch book.

"Have they found us?" Draco asked, dropping the book and drawing his wand as he got to his feet.

Snape shook his head. "No, but I'm taking you someplace else for a few days," he said, looking around the nearly empty room. "I'll come for you when it's safe."

Draco's eyes widened. "You're going to leave me alone?" he asked, feeling panicked. "They'll kill me!"

"Nobody is going to kill you!" Snape snapped. "As long as you do nothing stupid, you'll be fine," he added. If things went well with Potter, Snape was going to try and get a message to Narcissa. Two weeks of living in close quarters with Draco was long enough for him to know that it's not something he wanted to do for much longer. If Snape could get Draco and Narcissa together, she could protect him, untying Snape's hands to deal with other matters. He wasn't going to mention it to Draco, just in case things went pear shaped.

"We leave in five minutes," Snape said, leaving the room. He needed to put together some meager supplies before they left.

* * *

The next morning found Harry waiting in the living room for Ron, Hermione and Ginny to arrive. The Dursley's had decided to go to church for their monthly visit and that left Harry free reign of the house for the day. He would rather have it that way as well. His departure would go by a lot smoother that way. Hedwig was already waiting in her cage, flapping her wings in irritation. Harry would have let her go already but something was holding him back. He couldn't say for sure what he was waiting for, but his feeling of restlessness from the night before hadn't left him. He had hoped the agitation would have gone away with the arrival of Ron and Hermione's letter, but if anything it increased. 

He fingered the letter in his pocket impatiently. Harry glanced up at the clock on the mantel watching as the second hand slowly ticked its way around the face. It struck the hour with ten soft chimes. A loud thud sounded through the sitting room causing Harry to jump. Wand in hand, he turned towards the bay window and hesitantly approached it. He leapt back in shock as an owl, still disoriented from its collision, flew out of the immaculately pruned bush it had fallen in.

Harry hastily opened the window, letting the haggard owl in the house and stepped back as it crash landed on the floor. For a fraction of a second Harry was afraid it was dead, but then it hooted softly and held out its leg. The raven-haired teenager bent over and untied the letter and left it on the floor in favor of picking up the exhausted owl. It didn't put up as much of a fight as Harry thought it would as he carried it over to Hedwig's cage. He unlatched the metal cage and opened the door.

"Be nice Hedwig," said Harry, stroking his owl's white plumage. Hedwig looked at the other owl reproachfully, but then went about nudging it with her beak. Harry didn't close the cage again purposefully as a show of faith and as he expected Hedwig didn't immediately take off. Harry scooped the tiny piece of parchment off the floor and unfurled it.

"Roundstone, Ireland?" Harry read aloud the only words on the slip of paper. He turned it over in his hands as if expecting an explanation to suddenly appear. The writing was familiar, he noted. He sat down on the sofa heavily and ran a hand through his shaggy black hair. Green eye's swept over the two words multiple times like it were a puzzle that needed solving.

He glanced over at the two owls. It seemed Hedwig was attempting futilely to get the bird to drink some water. The owl was non-descript and didn't help him any. He couldn't remember ever seeing it before. Frustrated, he crumpled the note in his fist and tossed it to the ground. Bloody lot of good it did him, now the ominous tension was becoming oppressive and he felt like he was about to be squeezed through a keyhole. It was a sickening feeling that he usually only ever associated with Apparation, but he wasn't going anywhere.

A loud rap at the door shattered the atmosphere and caused gooseflesh to rise on his skin. His heart missed a beat and his breathing hitched in his throat. He tensed waiting for...something.

"Harry?" An anxious voice called through the oak front door. He cast a glance at the parchment before going to the door. Hermione wouldn't wait patiently forever, not knowing the way his home life was. She would jump to all sorts of conclusions.

His hand was on the gold painted door knob when it struck him why the handwriting had been familiar.

"Shit," Harry swore viciously and wrenched open the door, revealing three nervous faces.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Ginny asked, stepping forward. She peered up in his face with a worried expression and Harry felt ill.

"Ginny, I'm sorry," said Harry even as he took a large step backwards away from her. He had to close his eyes to block out the hurt he saw in her eyes.

"Harry, what are you talking about?"

"Yeah mate, you gone wonky on us? We're here to spring you from this place." Ron chimed in with an easy grin.

"Guys, I can't come with you," Harry began already feeling like a heel. If he had a choice, he'd go with them, but as it was, he didn't think he did. Notes like that weren't sent by chance. They were sent for a purpose and while it had taken him a while to figure it out, he now knew what it was asking of him.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, confusion evident on her face.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I have things I need to do."

"You can't miss Bill and Fleur's wedding!" Ron cried in shock.

Harry just stared at him. He could just about see the cogs turning in Ron's head. It was fascinating in a weird way. He waited patiently for whatever conclusion the hot tempered red-head was going to come to.

"This doesn't have anything to do with Dumbledore's death, does it?" Harry shrugged uncomfortably and Ron's eyes bulged. "And you're not taking us?!"

"I can't," Harry stated simply earning more than one annoyed expression.

"Harry James Potter, you are not leaving us behind," Hermione threatened, reaching forward as if to grab him, but it was too late. Harry had already Apparated away.

* * *

Snape sat on the front porch, rocking slowly in the old rocker. He had been watching the road to his house carefully, watching for any sign of Potter or the Aurors. He wasn't sure which one he was expecting more, but he was prepared for both. 

His current appearance was that of a very bent old woman. The house he was sitting in front of had been empty for months, and he was using it as a cover to keep watch on his own little hideaway. If Potter came alone, he would watch him for a time before approaching him. If he brought people with him, he would Apparate away and join Draco.

Snape had been sitting on the porch for nearly two hours when he saw Potter walking up the path. He had his wand out and was glancing warily around. Snape tensed as Harry approached his location, but Harry just gave him a feeble smile and continued on his way.

"Foolish boy," Snape murmured once he had passed.

* * *

Harry wasn't entirely sure where he was heading. He had been vigilantly repeating the address Snape had handed him at the end of the school year and still no house had appeared. Unless Snape was leading him on, which right now seemed more and more possible. Had he been foolish to believe that anything Snape had said was the truth? 

He sighed and was just about to Apparate out of there when a house appeared on the hill before him. He pulled up short his eyes widening in surprise. All right, perhaps he'd been a bit rash in thinking that Snape would just randomly hand him an address for no reason. But now that he was here, he wasn't sure if he wanted to go up the path to the house. But no, he'd come too far now to just back down, plus he didn't fancy walking back down the hill past that creepy old woman again. The only consolation he had was that Snape had more information than he had. Information that he needed.

With that thought firmly in mind, he straightened his shoulders and started up the path.

* * *

Snape could tell when the house came into view for Harry. He practically tripped over his own feet. Merlin, if Snape had been setting a Death Eater trap, the boy would be captured before he could blink he was paying so little attention to what was going on behind him. 

_Savior of the wizarding world indeed_, Snape thought with a bit of a sneer. He grabbed the cane that was resting next to his chair and got to his feet. Keeping his eyes on Harry, he hobbled his way up the street.

When he reached the path up the hill to the house, he kept on walking, keeping watch on Harry from the corner of his eye, curious as to his next move.

* * *

Harry had reached the door when he felt as if someone was watching him. He glanced around and noticed the old woman from the house down the street. He couldn't tell if she had seen that he was looking at her. 

As she passed the path, she stumbled, her cane flying out of her hands. The elderly woman fell to the ground and let out a painful cry.

Harry, despite initial misgivings, went over the old lady's side with little hesitation. He wanted to kick himself for it, but he couldn't just leave her there and not check to see if she was all right.

He crouched down beside her. "Are you all right, ma'am?"

"Oh please, can you help me up?" she asked, voice trembling. "My grandson warned me not to take my walks anymore," her breath hitched at the end of the sentence.

Looking reluctant and very uncomfortable, Harry helped the old woman to her feet. She stumbled, falling heavily into him and tightened her grip. She Apparated with him before he could do anything to stop her.

* * *

**A/N:** Please Review! 


	5. Chapter 5

_**Co-Written with stormypup **_

**Disclaimer: **A large part of the first chapter is taken straight from chapter 25 of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and belongs to J.K. Rowling, as does a good portion of chapter two. These have been modified by the authors to fit with the challenge. Chapter three onward was written solely by the authors using JKR's characters.

**A/N: **This was written for the Written for Wave XII of the Harry/Snape fqf fest. This fanfiction is a complete work (25 chapters in all) and shall be updated every Weekend between Friday and Sunday. I'd have to throw much love and many sugary sweets at my beta-reader, NSW, who put up with our horrible all-nighter grammar skills.

Thank you to all of you who said we did well sticking to canon last chapter. And for those of you who couldn't wait for the smack down between Snape and Harry...here it is!

**Chapter Five**

As soon as they Apparated into the rundown barn thirty miles away, Snape had his wand in hand. He pushed Harry away from him. "You have the sense of a bloody first year, Potter," he said, his voice incongruent with his altered body. "I could have Disapparated straight to the Dark Lord!" he said accusingly.

"You fucking bastard! Don't you dare start in on me now, don't you dare! I didn't even have to show up. I didn't have to help you off the damn ground and I sure as hell could have turned you into the ministry for murder, but I didn't and do you know why? Do you?!"

"I couldn't give a pixie's arse," Snape said, sneering. "Did you think I would just let you walk right in, knowing that you could bring the Aurors along with you? Unlike you, Potter, I am careful," he said spitefully. Merlin, he wanted the polyjuice to wear off. He couldn't be nearly as threatening as a wizened old woman half Potter's size.

And then suddenly he was on the ground. Snape glared up through one good eye at Potter. The boy was standing over him one hand still clenched in a fist with a murderous expression. It was almost comical.

"Did you kill Dumbledore for nothing?" Potter snapped.

"Do not speak of that to me," Snape hissed angrily, getting to his feet. "You haven't the first clue about what I have done!" he spat.

"Is that my fault?" Harry glowered in frustration. "It's not like I'm told anything. I'm just expected to go save the whole bleeding planet."

"Given the choice, you would have been told nothing," Snape said disdainfully, rubbing carefully at his eye, still surprised the brat had actually hit him. "Tell me, did it feel good to hit a little old lady?" he asked, smirking.

"Felt wonderful, thank you very much." Although while saying this, he was rubbing his sore knuckles.

At that moment, Snape began to feel the telltale tingling that came when the polyjuice began to wear off. His skin began to itch and his muscles tensed.

"Damn it," he growled, glaring at Harry as if it were all, his fault. Before Potter could raise his wand, Snape yelled, "_Petrificus Totalis_!" before falling against the wall as his body went through the transformation back to his own lanky form.

The housecoat Snape was wearing stretched painfully around his body as he took his normal shape He pulled furiously at the buttons, practically tearing them off in his haste to get out of the old woman clothing. His feet were painfully stuck into worn house slippers. With a quick scowl at Harry, Snape stepped into a nearby stall. He quickly stripped out of the torn clothes and grabbed the clothing he had stashed there weeks before.

It was dusty and smelled musty, but he ignored it, only caring that he got clothed as quickly as possible. When his robe was once again in place, Snape pulled on his boots, lacing them up while eyeing Potter warily.

When he was finally completely dressed, he pointed his wand at Harry and released him from the spell.

Harry sat up scowl firmly in place. He looked ready to go another round when he stopped himself. It was really something to see, Snape reflected idly as he watched the boy futilely clamp down on his emotions till only a hint of anger showed through.

"Where the hell are we?"

And then some things never changed at all.

"That hardly matters," Snape said, scowling. "Did you tell anyone where you were going?" he asked.

"No."

"Did you and Dumbledore find the locket? Was it destroyed?" he asked, hoping beyond hope there was one less Horcrux to be found.

"We found a locket, yes," Harry answered quietly, but didn't elaborate any farther.

Snape felt a small measure of relief. "Good, one less we have to track down," he said, pacing, idly tapping his wand against the palm of his hand.

"But it wasn't the right...locket," Harry finally finished.

Snape whirled on Harry, his brow furrowed in an angry scowl. "What are you talking about? Dumbledore was certain!" he said, wondering if Potter was deliberately misleading him. "Did you, or did you not find and destroy the locket?" Snape said slowly.

"We found a locket," Harry offered weakly, then sighed. "No, it was the wrong one, someone else had gotten there first."

Snape's scowl deepened. "Are you certain?" he asked, his stomach falling. "Did you discuss it with Dumbledore before...did he know?" Snape asked, feeling desperate. He didn't have the slightest idea where to look for the locket. They had been so certain of the locket's location, and he had assumed it was taken care of.

"I didn't find out until..." Harry was trembling again. "Until I came upon Dumbledore's body. I was kneeling on the locket. I could tell just from outward appearance it wasn't the right one, but at the time I just didn't care."

Snape leaned heavily against the wall, feeling defeated. He stared at Harry, wondering if the boy was going to cry. They didn't have time for crying.

"Did Dumbledore give you any indication of where the real locket might be?" he asked before answering his own question. "No, Dumbledore never knew," he said, rubbing his hands on his face. "I've got to think, start at the beginning," he said, talking more to himself than Harry. "The answer has to be somewhere," he said, leaning his head against the wall. Snape stood up straight, realizing something. "How do you know someone got there first?" he asked.

"There was a note, addressed to Voldemort," Harry answered, eyes downcast.

That was the last answer Snape had been expecting. "What kind of note?" he asked, moving quickly to loom over Harry.

Harry gulped. "Just a note, it basically said he beat the system, has his locket and is going to get revenge. Just a typical note."

"I don't want basically, Potter! What did it say, word for word!" he snapped, irritated.

"Don't yell at me!" Harry shouted in frustration. "I don't know what the damn note says word for word! I didn't memorize it for your listening pleasure!"

Snape clenched his fist around his wanted, fighting his desire to hex the boy. "Useless," Snape growled, turning away. Giving it only a moment of thought, Snape whirled back around.

"_Legilimens_!" he cried. If the idiot couldn't remember, Snape would find the memory himself to read the blasted note.

Harry staggered backwards into a bundle of hay as his mind was forcefully invaded. His first instinct was to fight back. Then his reason kicked in, and he started to help instead, trying to lead him. He knew it was important to find out what was in that letter, this was no time for them to be fighting each other. Besides, this way he could be sure Snape wasn't seeing things Harry didn't want him to see.

The soggy hay was making him sneeze, and he swore bugs were crawling on his skin. He tried not to focus on the details around him. If he left Snape up to his own devices there was no telling what he would find.

There were flashes of Inferi, and Dumbledore, a lake. The locket sitting in the basin. Then Potter was holding a sobbing Dumbledore, forcing him to drink from the basin, but Snape was pushed away from that memory before he could explore it further. Now Potter, kneeling next to Dumbledore, opening the locket, pulling out the note.

To the Dark Lord  
I know I will be dead long before you read this  
but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.  
I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match  
you will be mortal once more.  
R.A.B.

Snape pulled back from Harry's mind, repeating the note in his head over and over.

Dark Lord, so it was most likely a death eater. But who? Snape would know if there was another spy in Voldemort's camp. Wouldn't he?

He began to pace, ignoring Harry altogether. R.A.B? R.A.B? And then it came to him like a bolt of lightening.

"Black," he said, finally turning to Harry. "Regulus Black, it has to be."

"Sirius's brother?" Harry asked, frowning.

"He betrayed the Dark Lord, he wanted out! It was only a matter of time before he was killed for his betrayal. And he was just cocky enough to leave this little surprise for his former master," he added, taking a moment to think.

"The question is, did he have time to destroy it before he was killed?" he asked quietly. "It's at least a starting point, which is more than we had ten minutes it ago."

He looked at Harry and swallowed his pride. "You didn't fight me," he said, well aware that Potter could have made it a struggle to get to the information he needed. However, Snape couldn't bring himself to actually say the words, thank you. "It was...well done," he added, practically choking on the compliment. If Potter's expression was anything to go by, he had just put the brat into a state of shock.

Harry's jaw dropped. Unable to form anything remotely coherent to counter it, all he succeeded in saying was. "Swha...?"

"Ever articulate," Snape sneered. "You may go...do whatever it is you do. I'll contact you should the need arise," he said dismissively. "Do not do anything stupid such as go harrowing after Horcrux," Snape warned. "You'll end up dead before you can be of any use to anyone."

"Then why the hell did you call me here in the first place?" Potter snapped. "If I wasn't needed then why send me an owl?"

"You had information I needed, and now I have it," Snape said, scowling. "I haven't got the time to babysit you while I go after the other Horcrux."

"Do you know how dumb that sounds coming from you, sir?" Harry challenged, his eyes glinting with determination. "You remember Dumbledore before his passing as well as I. He tried to destroy one Horcrux on his own and look what bloody happened!"

Snape clenched his teeth, knowing that Potter was right, but he wasn't about to tell the brat that he had a point. "What did you tell your friends?" he asked instead. "Where do they think you are? I won't have Granger and Weasley blundering around."

"They don't know. I kinda Disapparated in front of them when their questions became too much." He flushed slightly and bowed his head.

"In any event, I am going to Bulgaria, if you wish to accompany me, then I suggest you pack a small bag," Snape said, the look he was giving Harry practically dared the boy to agree.

"It shouldn't take me too long…" Harry trailed off and stared at his professor, licking his lips nervously. "Why Bulgaria?"

Snape scowled. "It's quite cold there, don't expect to be coddled," he said, ignoring the question altogether.

Harry rocked back on his heels fighting a smirk that threatened to creep onto his face. There had been precious few times when he had noticeably thrown the sarcastic man completely. Today seemed to be that day. He was fairly certain if he pointed it out though he would find himself missing a body part.

"So warm clothing then?" He gnawed on his lower lip and averted his gaze in thought. What did he own that would constitute as warm? Shit, nothing that's what. Something told him that a cloak with a warming charm just wouldn't do it. And by the calculating look he was receiving, he truly didn't have time to go shopping either. Not that he was fond of that activity. He wasn't sure how to deal with this. He so desperately wanted to go and justify Dumbledore's death, but if he was going to freeze to death first, then it was pointless. The thing was, he knew Snape would not look kindly on Harry claiming he needed to go buy something warm. Snape already thought he was a spoiled brat that would probably further solidify that idea.

Snape's scowl deepened. The idiot boy was not taking the hint. If he wanted to be miserable, so be it.

"I have something to take care of before I go," he said, frowning at Harry. "If you are foolish enough to wish to join me then meet me here in one hour's time. Exactly one hour," he warned, "or I will leave without you."

"Yes, sir," came the distracted answer even as Harry pulled his wand out to apparate to...he lowered his wand with a vaguely puzzled expression. Where was he going to go? It was likely that everyone was dizzy with worry about his abrupt disappearance and the moment he returned to 4 Privet Drive someone was bound to notice. He was stuck in place for the moment, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed in thought.

"Sir?" he questioned hesitantly.

"What is it, Potter?" Snape asked irritably. What more did the boy want from him? He was taking him along, which was more than anyone should have to do, especially him.

"I...the Order," Harry stopped for a moment before trying again. "I was supposed to go to the Burrow today, I left everyone without explanation. I...I can't go back."

"Potter, I do not need another reason for the Order to want my head. Absconding with the boy who lived will most certainly add fuel to their growing fire," Snape replied. This was becoming a bigger headache than it was worth. Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Just go home and try not to get killed before I destroy the remaining Horcrux."

"No," Harry said voice hardening. "I'll go back and if someone's there I'll face them and tell them..." _Tell them what, Harry, the truth? Please, like they would believe you. More than half of the order wants Snape's head on a platter. Best to just tell them the bare facts and risk isolation._ "I'll just go." Harry finished lamely. "Just don't leave without me."

Snape stared at Harry, taking his measure. After a long moment, he made his decision. "One hour, Potter," he said and without another word, Disapparated.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Co-Written with stormypup **_

**Disclaimer: **A large part of the first chapter is taken straight from chapter 25 of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and belongs to J.K. Rowling, as does a good portion of chapter two. These have been modified by the authors to fit with the challenge. Chapter three onward was written solely by the authors using JKR's characters.

**A/N: **This was written for the Written for Wave XII of the Harry/Snape fqf fest. This fanfiction is a complete work (25 chapters in all) and shall be updated every Weekend between Friday and Sunday. I'd have to throw much love and many sugary sweets at my beta-reader, NSW, who put up with our horrible all-nighter grammar skills.

Here's the beginning of the adventure. Oh and if you don't like Harry/Ginny, I suggest you avert your eyes towards the middle because they kiss. Ewwww. ;)

_**Chapter Six**_

Harry didn't need to be told twice. His arrival in the alley at the edge of Privet Drive didn't garner any unnecessary attention, but his skin prickled nevertheless. He could tell someone was watching for him, or was watching out for him. Either way, he kept to the shadows and stealthily made his way behind the two houses before Number Four.

He entered through the kitchen door. So far no one had appeared out of nowhere and tackled him, for which he was grateful. He would be ready in under an hour. He'd be ready in less then ten minutes except for the damn warm jacket. Why hadn't he ever thought of investing in warmer muggle clothing before? How moronic was he?

The house was dead silent as he made his way up to Dudley's second bedroom and opened the door. He paused in the doorway and stared.

"Ginny?"

Ginny sprang off the bed and enveloped him in a hug, before pulling away. They stared at each other for a moment before Ginny's look went cold, and without warning, she slapped him hard across the cheek.

Harry rubbed his cheek with an expression of disbelief. "What the hell?"

"Don't you ever do that again, moron!" Ginny hollered. "Do you know how worried we were?! Do you know how worried Mum and Dad were? Harry, they were going on like you were kidnapped! Where did you go?!"

It could have been worse, he'd seen Ginny bloody Ron's nose before. "Guess I deserved that," he said, looking apologetic. "Sorry Ginny, but something came up and there was no time to explain," he said lamely.

"Too right you're sorry," Ginny said, though she was no longer looking so angry. "We can talk at the Burrow. Grab your things and we'll go before Mum has the whole Order here."

Harry felt a moment of panic. "Ginny, I can't," he said, looking around the room. "Where's my trunk?" he asked, before remembering that it was probably still downstairs.

He left the room taking the stairs two at a time, Ginny close behind him. "Harry, what's going on?" Ginny asked, grabbing his arm and turning him around.

Harry looked at his trunk and ran a hand through his hair. What was he supposed to tell her? 'Oh, I'm running off with Snape to Bulgaria to get a Horcrux. No, I don't know any details, see ya later!'

"I really don't have time to explain now, Ginny," he said squeezing her hand before opening his trunk. He knelt beside it and began taking out things at random as he continued talking to her. "Before Dumbledore...well, before he died, he introduced me to one of his...informants," he said, choosing his words carefully. He held up a long sleeved shirt, idly wondering if it would be warm enough. _Probably not_. "He contacted me today and I have to go," he said, glancing up at her, "to Bulgaria."

"What?" Ginny asked. "Bulgaria? Harry, are you sure this isn't some kind of trap?" she asked. "Who is this person and how do you know you can trust him?"

Harry stared into his trunk. He didn't know, not really. "Because Dumbledore asked me to," he said. If he thought about it too much, he'd remember all the reasons not to trust Snape and he'd be left behind.Better he was with him to keep an eye on him Harry pulled out his broom. Snape hadn't said how they were getting to Bulgaria and he wondered if he should bring it with him.

Ginny deflated. "You'll miss Bill and Fleur's Wedding."

A pained expression flitted across Harry's face as he stood back up. He shrunk his broom and pocketed it along with his invisibility cloak. He fingered the long sleeve shirt speculatively.

"Ginny?"

"Yes?" she looked at him inquisitively. Her wine colored hair trickled over her shoulders and fell gently across her breasts and Harry found himself lost in her warm brown eyes. Why did it have to be her and not Ron or Hermione that was waiting for him? He kicked himself mentally. "Are you ok, Harry?"

Harry shook his head ruefully. "What's the weather like in Bulgaria in the summer?"

Ginny gazed at him impassively. "It's hot and dry. Why?"

Harry bit back a laugh as he dropped the shirt back into his trunk. "That bastard."

* * *

"Why can't I go with you?" Draco asked Snape for the tenth time, and for the ninth time, Snape ignored him. He had already answered the question once and didn't have time to answer again because Draco was feeling petulant.

"I've already told you," he snapped, double-checking the potions before putting them in his bag. They would all be all right when he had to shrink them, and the ones that wouldn't work once they had been affected by magic, he was keeping in a pouch tied to his belt. "Don't leave the house or contact anyone and you'll be perfectly safe," he said, closing his small bag and casting a shrinking spell. He put the bag in the pocket of his trousers.

Snape didn't like the fact that he wouldn't be able to wear his robes, but he did not wish to draw attention to himself among the muggles. He was wearing black cotton trousers and a white shirt with long sleeves. He at least felt more secure behind the numerous buttons. Despite what he'd told Potter, Bulgaria was quite hot this time of year and he didn't want to be miserable.

"I'm not incompetent and I'm not a child!" Draco argued.

"No, but you are a target!" Snape said, scowling. "Draco, I haven't the time for this. The Dark Lord could summon me at any time," he said, summoning a lightweight cloak.

"You could at least tell me what's going on," Draco said irritably.

Snape rolled his eyes. He didn't have much faith that Draco wouldn't sell him out to save his own hide were he to know exactly what Snape was doing. "I'll be back," Snape said, walking out the back door of the cottage. Before Draco could say another word, he was gone.

* * *

Harry had grabbed some shorts and short sleeved shirts and a few pairs of trousers and tossed them into a bag. He slung it over his shoulder very aware of Ginny's constant watch. He hung his head and turned around.

"This is it," he finally said. He had managed to waste forty-five minutes just laughing over some of his uglier clothing with Ginny, but now he really did have to go. He wanted to be prompt for once. Maybe he could prove to Snape that he was as capable as he wanted to be viewed.

And then Ginny was in his arms. He cradled her thin frame to him and pressed a soft kiss to her auburn hair, then to her forehead, and then a chaste kiss to her lips. He could feel the restraint she was showing.

"Good luck Harry," Ginny murmured, gently kissing his cheek before stepping away. She ruffled his raven locks and smiled affectionately. "Don't get yourself killed."

"I'll certainly keep that in mind, Gin," Harry said dryly. His smile softened as he stared at her. "Bye."

"Good-bye," she repeated equally soft. Then, bag slung over his shoulder and wand in hand, he Apparated out of 4 Privet Drive.

* * *

Snape had told the boy one hour and exactly one hour was what he would wait. It would be Potter's own fault if he was late and Snape was gone. He Apparated to the barn, noting the time on his watch, feeling smug that in less than ten minutes he could leave without Potter.

A crack sounded Potter's early arrival, and sent his hopes of a Potter free trip crashing down around him. It didn't help his mood that Potter was looking so pleased with himself.

"You smarmy git," Harry said, but there was no anger in his tone just amusement, born from an hour with Ginerva Weasley and her wicked sense of humor.

Snape had his wand out and pointed at Harry before the boy could blink. "Watch your tone, Potter," he rasped, striding toward Harry. "I may no longer be your professor, but you will show me respect or you may go home," he growled.

Harry's smile faltered. "Sir, I only show respect to those who earn it and lying to me does nothing to make me want to respect you." He sighed, wishing he had started off on better footing.

"I have done more than you can possibly imagine," Snape snarled before turning away and stalking to the stall where he had put the portkey. He took the rusty old horseshoe and went back to Potter. What was he thinking, allowing him to come along? This wasn't going to end well.

"How do you know I'm not taking you straight to the Dark Lord?" Snape asked, holding up the horseshoe. "I could take you to your death and you'd probably be stupid enough to go," he said, sneering.

"What do I have left to lose?"

And with that said, Harry grabbed the other side of the rusting horseshoe. It was obviously time set because nothing happened right away and Harry had to fight hard against the urge to look away from Snape's penetrating gaze. It was unnerving.

Snape didn't know whether to applaud the lad's courage or beat him about the head with a stick for being so trusting. He could very well be taking Harry to the feet of the Dark Lord, to his certain death, and yet here he was, putting his trust in Severus Snape of all people.

"You're a fool, Potter," Snape said, shaking his head in disgust.

Harry looked up at him in confusion. There was something in his ex-professors tone making Harry wonder what the older man meant. But before he could ask, he felt a familiar tug at his naval and squeezed his eyes shut as they vanished out of the barn.

After what felt like an eternity, the portkey deposited them on a rocky hillside covered in green shrubs. Snape smirked when Harry stumbled before finding his footing and then looked around to get his baring.

"Where are we?" Harry asked, looking around the stark landscape.

"Bulgaria, outside of Teteven," Snape answered, checking his belt pouch to make certain that his potions had survived the trip. The boy stared at him dumbly and Snape could feel a dull headache form at the base of his head. "What?" he snapped, never once looking up as he looked at each vial individually.

"You never answered me before. Why Bulgaria?"

Snape ground his teeth together. "There is a monastery about a mile from here," he said, tightening the string on his pouch once again. "We are going to procure a room, and tonight I am going to break into their records to try and find out what happened to Helga Hufflepuff's cup. Before you asked, I have no desire to explain the long, convoluted history of how it came to be here. All you need know is this was the last place it was believed to have been," Snape said, setting off.

"Wait!" Harry cried, hurrying to catch up. "How do you know you'll be able to get into their records?" he asked.

"Have you forgotten that we are wizards, Potter?" Snape asked sarcastically. "I'll talk to the monks and find out where the records are kept, and then it is just a matter of getting to them."

"What if they keep them somewhere else?" Harry asked, trying to keep up with Snape's long stride. "And what if they're on a computer or something? You can't magic your way into that!"

Snape stopped and turned his glare upon Harry. "I will deal with problems as they arise," he said, annoyed once again. "I have been doing this longer than you have been alive, Potter."

"We," Harry said, stubbornly.

"What?" Snape asked, frowning.

"We will deal with problems as they arise," Harry said, straightening his shoulders. "You keep saying 'I', like I'm not even here."

Snape glowered. "I don't have time for this."

Harry shrugged. "All the more reason you need my help," Harry said, starting to walk once again. "Two can read faster than one."

"You don't even speak Bulgarian!" Snape said, easily catching up to Harry. "How do you plan on reading old text?"

"Translation spells. I don't know Latin either but I manage spell books just fine that way. Have you forgotten that we are wizards, sir?" Harry asked, not even trying to hide his triumphant smirk.

"With your potion scores were so abysmal, I was under the impression that Granger did all your reading for you," Snape said, sneering and lengthening his stride, outpacing Harry once again.

Harry snorted. "I did perfectly fine when you weren't teaching," he said under his breath, but not quite softly enough.

Snape scowled dangerously. "I know you had my old textbook, Potter. You can't honestly expect me to go along with the idea that you had the slightest clue that you knew what you were doing," he growled.

Harry blushed, but didn't look away from Snape's glower. "Yes, the half-blood prince was very helpful," he said calmly. "If I known that was you, I would have listened to Hermione and not used it at all."

"Once again, you confirm my belief that you are a brainless twit," Snape sneered.

They walked in angry silence for a time until the monastery on the hill came into view.

"Is that it?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Snape replied curtly.

Harry nodded slowly as he took in the monastery before him. The building sat like a fortress on top of a rocky ledge. Its stone walls were huge and the little bit of wood on top did nothing to dissuade from its power. It seemed impenetrable and unreachable and he almost felt guilty that they were going to have to violate its integrity.

Trees blocked all visible routes to the monastery and added to its imposing nature. From the angle he was staring at it, it almost seemed crooked with age. It was fragile and impregnable. He paused for a moment before stumbling to keep up with Snape. It was obvious that he knew something about the place that Harry didn't, because his gait remained undaunted.

"So, we just...walk in?" Harry finally asked, unable to hide his curiosity any longer.

"That would be the plan, yes," Snape replied.

"Um..."

Snape sighed. "It is open to the public and they rent rooms for the night to visitors," he said in exasperation. "Are you going to make me explain everything?" he asked, scowling at Harry.

Harry glared and then sighed. "I have one last question actually."

"And did you plan on sharing with the class or am I to guess?" Snape ask, rolling his eyes.

"What if they only have one room?"

"Then I'm sure you can find an empty stall in the stables," Snape said sarcastically. "I'm hardly worried about the sleeping arrangements as I plan to spend little time in the room. You do recall why we're here, do you not?"

"Research," Harry mumbled, shrugging uncomfortably. "But no one can do research forever. It's stupid to think you can."

"Oh in that case, I thought we'd lie in bed and snuggle!" Snape snapped. "For Merlin's sake, Potter, I promise not to compromise your delicate Gryffindor virtue! We are here to do a job, and once that job is complete, we will leave."

Harry's eyes bugged out of his head as a myriad of disturbing images drifted across his head. He hugged himself and averted his eyes, clenching his jaw.

"Pervert," he muttered, brushing past Snape and heading up the windy dirt path.

Snape snickered as Harry rushed past in a huff. Idiot child.

Harry paused in the middle of the path and waited. The sun was beating down on his head and he could feel the sweat drip down his neck and down the back of his shirt. He tilted his head to the side, listening as Snape's shoes crunched on the pebbles almost silently.

He didn't make any move to indicate what was going through his head and once Snape had reached his side he fell into step with the man. The silence that hung between them wasn't comfortable and Harry felt ill at ease standing this close to Snape, but he didn't know which path to take.

The main one they were on now split in three directions. Harry could immediately rule out the one to his right, but the center and left ones were up for debate. He figured he'd just let the all-knowing Snape sort it out for them.

About fifteen minutes later, Harry was eating his words. It seemed Snape was all knowing after all. He stood back and watched as Snape rapped on the wood door five times then waited.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Co-Written with stormypup **_

**Disclaimer: **A large part of the first chapter is taken straight from chapter 25 of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and belongs to J.K. Rowling, as does a good portion of chapter two. These have been modified by the authors to fit with the challenge. Chapter three onward was written solely by the authors using JKR's characters.

**A/N: **This was written for the Written for Wave XII of the Harry/Snape fqf fest. This fanfiction is a complete work (25 chapters in all) and shall be updated every Weekend between Friday and Sunday. I'd have to throw much love and many sugary sweets at my beta-reader, NSW, who put up with our horrible all-nighter grammar skills.

For those of you who aren't reading our new fic, **Bonds of Water**, and didn't get the message about **Little Steps** (because I was stupid and didn't put it into **Potent Rewards**) here it is. I know most of you are waiting on the sequel, but you'll have to wait a bit longer, because I am going through **Little Steps** itself and revising it. Yes, revising/re-writing, whatever you want to call it. It will be different, a lot different, but the plot is the same as are the situations and characters used. However, I'm intending on making the fic as a whole, a lot tighter plot wise and character wise. So that means I am going to be posting it as a different story, same title, with the fun word revised. The original version of **Little Steps** will remain up until I finish editing it all.

* * *

_**Chapter Seven**_

They were met at the door by a portly fellow wearing robes much like wizarding robes. He wished to be addressed by the name Brother Issac, and asked that Snape and Harry, in broken English, refrain from any loud or disturbing talk, as they didn't want to distract the other monks from their tasks.

Brother Issac gave them a tour of the Monastery, and told a bit of its history. Harry found himself fascinated by it all, but Snape just nodded when appropriate until the monk began speaking about their records dating back centuries.

"Are those kept on the premises?" Snape asked politely.

Brother Issac smiled. "The originals have all been sent away to be preserved. We have copies of all things stored in the computer. We follow old ways, but are not simpletons."

Harry's eyes flew to Snape. Could it be that easy?

"Are those open to the public as well?" Snape asked.

"Oh no, no. Some of these things should be only with the brethren," Brother Issac replied.

Harry glanced at Snape, but said nothing.

After the tour, a price was agreed upon to allow them lodging for the night. Their lights must be out by the chimes of the ninth hour, and there should be limited, if any, speaking from that point on.

Snape felt vindictive while making the room assignments. Despite the other tourists spending the night, when informed that they had a number of rooms available, Snape told the monk it would be far easier for all concerned if he and Potter shared a room. Snape gave a sickly smirk at Potter, who was glaring daggers at him. Besides, Potter already knew that Snape only planned on staying the room until the monks, and rest of the guests, were settled in for the night before going in search of the records.

Once they were safely behind the door of their room, Harry wheeled on Snape. "I could have had my own room!" he said angrily. "You did this just to spite me!"

Snape scoffed. "You can sleep to your hearts content while I'm out looking for the bloody records."

"No! I'm coming with you, I already told you that!" Harry argued.

"Then I suggest you stop obsessing about a room you will hardly be in!" Snape growled.

"Do you even know anything about computers?" Harry asked mockingly.

"Do you?" Snape snapped.

"I'm guessing I know more than you!" Harry replied, though honestly, he only knew the basics. He was never allowed to play on Dudley's computer, but he had snuck on a few times when everyone had been out.

"Then I guess you'll be coming with me," Snape said, sounding quite put out.

The silence in the room was oppressive. They needed to wait until all the monks were asleep before they could leave, but it seemed like that was taking forever.

"Stop fidgeting, Potter," Snape grumbled, shooting a glare at him.

"I'm bored," he grit out.

"What are you, five?" Snape snapped irritably. "Merlin, it was foolish of me to agree to let you come along."

Harry gave a long-suffering sigh. "'How does this blasted contraption work? Idiotic muggles and their machines. Grr. _Flatus pestis_!'" he mocked, and then rolled his eyes.

"Are you implying that I cannot work a simple muggle device?" Snape asked, brow arched, imperially.

"No," Harry said fighting a grin. Points couldn't be taken. The worse thing that could happen is Snape could kill him, and honestly, was that really that bad? "I'm implying that you have zero patience and tolerance to learn how to use a rather complex muggle device."

"Perhaps you're confusing me with Arthur Weasley," Snape said with a sneer. "You act as though I have no experience with muggles at all," he said dismissively. "I have no doubt that left to my own devices I can figure out a common muggle machine."

Harry snorted and it sounded something like 'yeah right'. He arched an eyebrow at the innocent smile that spread across the idiot's face.

"All right, sir, whatever you say." Harry answered easily, stretching out his legs and leaning back on his hands.

"I don't like your tone, Potter," Snape said, scowling. "Silence," he said, quietly opening the door and listening intently. Lights out had been hours ago, but the halls were finally silent.

Snape nodded to the door and on silent feet, made his way down the hallway, assuming Harry would follow.

Harry jumped to his feet and followed after Snape. He wondered how the man intended on finding these computers anyway. The thought of being stealthy in a monastery was hysterical, not that he'd say so. He knew this was potentially dangerous in the long run. If anyone got suspicious, they wouldn't find what they needed.

It took forty minutes, a few close calls, and one very awkward moment in a broom closet before they found the room housing the computer.

The computer was already on and the screen saver was running when Snape sat down in the chair. He looked at the screen, then down at the box on the floor, then back at the screen. They sat in silence for nearly a minute before Snape spoke.

"Well, is it on?" he asked, annoyed.

Harry didn't even bother to hide his snicker as he grabbed the mouse and moved it enough to cancel out the screen saver. A prompt for a password popped up.

"Uh-oh," Harry said. "That's not good."

"Password?" Snape said, talking mostly to himself. "Merlin's bollocks," he said, clenching his teeth.

"Now what?" Harry asked nervously.

Snape stood up, angrily pushing the chair backwards and standing. "Now we to go bed. In the morning we'll find out where they've stored the originals and we'll go there. This is just ridiculous," he said, motioning towards the computer.

"Hang on," Harry said, brushing past Snape and taking the chair. "Lumos," he said, lighting up his wand. He began opening drawers and examining their contents, before lifting up the keyboard.

"Aha! Who knew the telly would come in handy?" he said, delightedly showing the underside of the keyboard to Snape as he grinned in triumph.

Snape read the small piece of paper taped to the keyboard. "wib9al83nq," he said, reading off the letters and numbers. "Idiots," he muttered, scowling at Potter. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked.

Harry flashed him a grin and slowly plucked at the keyboard. He hit the enter key and crossed his fingers hoping that the monks really were that trusting.

"Did it work?"

"I think so," Harry said slowly. The blue screen in front of him wasn't comforting. He could feel the agitation rolling off the older man. He prayed the machine would go just a little bit faster, and then, the screen loaded. Harry pushed the chair away from the desk and spun around on it once.

"Move."

Harry quickly obeyed, abandoning the chair so Snape could reclaim his seat. He bit his lip as he watched the Potions Master glare at the screen for a moment, before hesitantly grabbing the mouse and making the arrow move about the screen.

Snape was beginning to realize that he hadn't the slightest idea how to make it work. He'd pushed the button on the mouse, but nothing was happening. He tried hitting random letters on the keyboard, and nothing.

After a very long, very frustrating minute, Snape got to his feet, shoving back the chair once again. He glared at Harry and waved a hand at the computer. "Make it work!" he growled.

"But you were doing so well," Harry said. He bit the inside of his cheek at the murderous expression shot in his direction. "Double click on the folder icon," he instructed.

"Don't get smart with me!" Snape warned through clenched teeth. "Just do it!"

Harry tightened his jaw and leaned over Snape's arm, moving the mouse around haltingly before doing exactly what he had instructed Snape to do in the first place. The folder opened revealing all sorts of documents.

"They're written in Latin aren't they?"

"It's good to know you're not a complete moron," Snape said, slapping Harry's hand away from the mouse. He opened up one of the files at random being careful to click twice instead of only once this time.

"This could take years," he muttered.

"It would be nice if maybe you told me why we are looking for the cup here."

Snape was frowning at the screen. "When the Dark Lord was here, before the first war, he had a conversation with Karkaroff about religious relics and the monasteries in the area."

"Are we near Durmstrang?" Harry asked, wondering if he'd get to see the other wizard school.

"No, pay attention," Snape said irritably.

Harry scowled and went silent.

"Karkaroff told him quite frankly that if he needed something to vanish then donating it to a monastery would make it effectively disappear. Of course, it had to be something of value either religiously or historically. Can your feeble mind hazard a guess as to what he was referring to?"

"You think he brought the Hufflepuff cup here?" Harry asked, surprised. "Wouldn't it have been easier to just throw it down a well or something?"

"Symbolism, Potter. The Dark Lord is very much into symbolism. Putting a piece of his soul into something and convincing muggles that it was a sacred relic would very much suit him," Snape replied.

"Could you answer one more question for me?"

"Spit it out, Potter," Snape said, turning to scowl at him.

" If you find the information, how are you planning on getting the cup? I don't know much about Bulgaria, but I'm pretty sure the monks would notice if something like that went missing."

Snape shrugged. "I'll transfigure a regular goblet to duplicate it. If they notice, it won't be until well after we're gone." He opened up a folder at random and scanning the contents. "If we can find the blasted thing in the first place.

"Can't you just, ask somebody?" Harry asked. "I mean, if it's this sacred thing, won't they all know where it is?"

"Potter, that was quite possibly the most moronic thing you have ever uttered. Do you think I would have gone to all this trouble if I hadn't already inquired about the blasted thing in the first place?"

"Well maybe you didn't ask the right person!" Harry snapped, tired of Snape being so condescending. "It's got to be easier than sorting through all that mess," he said, motioning to the screen.

"I never said it would be easy," Snape replied. "Feel free to go home at any time, your ceaseless yammering isn't helping."

"Fine, if you think you can work this thing alone, I'll go back to the room," he snapped, fed up with the entire thing. "If you leave without me, I'll hunt you down and hex you." With that, he turned heel and stalked out of the room, stealing away into the darkness as silently as he could so not to get caught.

Snape snorted when Harry left the room. "Idiot child," he muttered, turning his attention back to the screen. The information was in there somewhere, he just had to find it.

Four hours later, Severus let himself into their bedroom, frustrated and annoyed

"No luck?" Harry asked drowsily, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"No," Snape said, rubbing his tired eyes. "Get up," he growled. "I need the bed."

Harry shifted off the mattress- it was only on the floor- and took the covers with him.

Snape pulled the sheet out of Harry's hand before settling himself on the bed, closing his eyes. The monks would be up soon and he needed to get in a couple of hours sleep. After that, he would figure out their next move.


	8. Chapter 8

**Co-written with stormypup  
**

**  
Disclaimer: **A large part of the first chapter is taken straight from chapter 25 of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and belongs to J.K. Rowling, as does a good portion of chapter two. These have been modified by the authors to fit with the challenge. Chapter three onward was written solely by the authors using JKR's characters.

**A/N: **This was written for the Written for Wave XII of the Harry/Snape fqf fest. This fanfiction is a complete work (25 chapters in all) and shall be updated every Weekend between Friday and Sunday. I'd have to throw much love and many sugary sweets at my beta-reader, NSW, who put up with our horrible all-nighter grammar skills.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

Harry waited until he was positive Snape was asleep, before moving. He crept towards the door and peered out into the hall. He saw a monk walking sedately down the hall, and he went out, quietly shutting the door behind him.

"Excuse me?" Harry said, hailing the brown haired man with a whisper.

The tall man stopped and stared at him as if surprised. "Good morning," he greeted.

Harry smiled. "Good morning."

"You have question?" he asked in halting English.

"Yes sir," Harry said, gesturing for them to continue moving in the direction the monk had previously been walking in. "Sorry, I just didn't want to wake Professor Snape up," he said in way of explanation once they were out of ear shot of their room.

* * *

Though it could have only been a couple of hours, Snape forced himself to wake. He felt as though he had sand in his eyes and his head was pounding, but time was running short. He opened his eyes and threw his feet over the side of the bed. The blanket was still on the floor, but Potter was not there. He looked around and his eyes landed on Potter, who was sitting on the floor by the door, a smug smile on his face 

"What are you grinning at?" Snape asked irritably, unconsciously running a hand through his stringy hair.

"You know, with the way you treated me yesterday, I shouldn't tell you," Harry quipped, bringing a knee up and resting his elbow against it. He propped his head up on his hand and smirked.

Snape blinked. The boy looked positively indecent sitting there like that. He looked...Snape gave himself a mental shake and glared. "What are you on about, Potter?" he snapped.

Harry resisted the urge to use the childish taunt of 'I know something you don't know and I'll never tell'. Instead he leaned back against the door, smirk firmly in place. "I had a small chat with one of the monks here. Friendly chap by the name of Marcus."

"I'm in no mood for games, Potter," Snape said. "Get to the point, I have work to do in case you've forgotten."

"Well, it seems he pities me or something, because he told me where to go."

"I've told you where to go many times, yet you're still here," Snape said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I take it there is a point to this tale?" he asked, getting to his feet.

"I know where Hufflepuff's cup is," Harry said effectively freezing Snape in place.

"You're lying," Snape said, watching Harry carefully. ""You honestly expect me to believe you accomplished that in the short time I was asleep?"

"I may not be Hermione, but I do know how to get information an easier way. I asked."

"Unbelievable," Snape said, shaking his head. The little bastard got information that Snape had been trying to obtain for months in a matter of hours. "Is it here?" he asked, the adrenaline beginning to course through his veins.

The smirk faded. "No, it never was either."

Snape shot across the room, grabbing Harry by the shirt and pulling him to his feet. "This is not a game, Potter! Where is it?" he growled.

Harry grabbed at the hand that was fisting his shirt, attempting to pry the lanky fingers off of it. "It's in Sevlievo," Harry gasped, wide eyed and slightly hurt.

Snape released Harry's shirt, and stepped back. "Sevlievo?" Snape asked, frowning. That hadn't been on his list of possibilities. "Did he tell you where, exactly?" Snape asked, eyes intense.

"In a monastery just outside of the town," Harry grumbled, shying away from the man.

"Get your things, we're going," Snape said. He grabbed his potion pouch from the bedside table and pulled out a vial with a blue potion inside. He pulled out the stopper and drank it quickly, ignoring Harry's curious look.

"Damn it, I need a ruddy map," he growled, tossing the empty vial into the waste bin.

Harry stared at Snape for a long moment, not even wanting to hazard a guess at the potion he had just guzzled down. Instead he pulled a yellowed piece of paper from his pocket and soundlessly thrust it at the greasy-haired man.

Snape looked at the paper in his hands, and found it was directions to the city. He looked back up at Potter, feeling a tad disoriented. He was forced to admit the boy _had_ managed to save them quite a bit of time.

"Well done," he muttered reluctantly, scowling. "Well, what are you waiting for! Get your things!" he ordered, leaving the room and storming down the hall.

Harry blinked, a small grin formed on his lips as he picked up his rucksack and slung it over his shoulder, before following in Snape's wake. Marcus was waiting at the exit with his knowing and infinitely patient smile as Snape grit out a formal and stilted thank you. Harry rolled his eyes and shook the man's hand thanking him profusely for the information and the accommodations.

"Take care, child. You can return anytime, you know that?"

"I do, thank you," Harry murmured, offering him a genuine smile before harrying off after Snape.

They grabbed a quick breakfast at a small diner in town, and inquired about public transportation to get them to Sevlievo. A few hours later found them in the southern most end of town.

"We'll walk the rest of the way," Snape said, starting off.

"It's a big town, can't we hire a cab or something?" Harry asked, hurrying to catch up with Snape.

"We have limited resources Potter, we cannot -" Snape broke off with a hiss, clutching at his arm. "I'm being summoned," he ground out. "Does anyone know you're here, anyone at all?"

Harry shook his head wildly, watching Snape with panicked eyes. "N-no, sir."

"Go into town, somewhere public. Blend in. If I'm not back by tomorrow, go to the Weasleys and find Moody," Snape said hurriedly, "he'll protect you. Don't do anything stupid," he warned. "Do not try and destroy the Horcrux on your own. We don't know what kind of protections are around it." Snape clenched his teeth as the pain in his arm intensified. "I must go," he said. "First sign of trouble, get out," he said, and without another word, he was gone.

Harry stared at the space before him for a long moment. His scar was prickling and he brought a hand up to his head ruefully. If it wasn't for the sake of their mission, Harry would have popped back to the Weasley's before the vision hit. He hated the fact that he could think about his visions in such a mundane way.

Hitching his rucksack up on his shoulder, Harry began walking toward the city center. His nerves were on edge and he kept looking around, expecting someone to Apparate in front of him with a wand pointed at his head. He moved his own wand in his waistband so that it was outside of his shirt instead of under it. His hand kept fidgeting with it until he finally just pulled it out and left it in his hand. It's not like anyone was paying attention to him anyway, and it was better safe than sorry.

The main part of the city was filled with tourists. Harry knew it would be easy to just lose himself in the crowd and observe his surroundings but instinctively he knew it was a bad idea. And no sooner than that thought crossed his mind, pain blossomed from his scar. He hissed in pain, clutching his forehead as he staggered into the building beside him.

Voldemort was obviously in a foul mood, Harry wished, not for the first time, that he could just be a normal boy, and not be linked in any way to a psychotic bastard bent on his destruction. He closed his eyes against the pain, before remembering he had to keep alert to his surroundings.

Pushing away from the building, Harry looked around, squinting against the unbearably bright sunlight. Forcing himself to ignore the pain, Harry set off across the street, hoping to find somewhere he could sit.

He found a bench and fell down heavily on it. Breathing heavily through his nose, he searched the area, trying to focus on something other than the pain-- a person, a flower, a building anything. He bit his fist trying to stem his cries as another slice of orange agony pummeled his head.

People passed by him not noticing him, as wave upon wave of pain hit him, leaving him weak with the effort to look normal.

In what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, the pain began to ebb and he slumped backwards on the bench. Harry took deep, calming breaths, wishing he had a potion to help numb his head a bit,

"Fuck," he swore softly, closing his eyes. He thought back on the emotion behind the pain, and realized, much to his horror, that it was disappointment and anger. "Doesn't mean Snape's in trouble," he said shakily, trying to comfort himself with the knowledge.

What if Snape didn't come back until tomorrow? Harry had to find some place to stay, just in case. He couldn't sleep on the street after all. He forced his mind away from his concerns for Snape and tried to focus on getting through the day.

What if Snape comes back? How's he supposed to find me if I'm holed up in some hotel room? Maybe I should go the Monastery, Harry thought, feeling ill.

"What do I do?" he murmured, panic starting to return.

"You could start by making it less apparent that you are having an emotional breakdown," a snide voice cut into his thoughts. Harry jerked his head up in surprise, his mouth dropped open and he just stared.

"You look like a fish," Snape said, scowling.

Merlin, he hurt. The Dark Lord wasn't happy and he made sure Snape knew this fact in no uncertain terms. He blamed Snape for Draco's disappearance, claiming that Snape should have had better control over the boy.

Voldemort had also been angry that he had lost sight of Potter. The Dark Lord had expected the boy to leave the protection of his family, but according to his sources, Potter had disappeared off the face of the earth. Snape was beginning to fear, not for the first time, that there was a mole within the Order.

He idly rubbed at his aching ribs. "Did you have any problems?" he asked, scanning the area.

"N-no," Harry said wide eyed and shaking his head. He opened his mouth and then thought better of it and closed it again. Out in the public was not a good place to ask what had happened. Once he would have wished Snape would endure torture, but he didn't anymore, and if the way Snape was rubbing his ribs was any indication he was in quite a bit of pain. None of it reflected on his face, but Snape's masks were tough and had been hardened over the years he was sure.

They would need a place to stay that was nearby, walking to the monastery was out of the question for that day, even if Snape insisted upon it. Harry didn't want to risk Snape injuring himself further just out of sheer stubbornness.

"Good," Snape muttered.

Harry kicked at the ground half-heartedly, getting a good look at Snape. His shirt was wrinkled and torn, but there was no blood. It was then that he realized Snape had gone to a Death Eater meeting without the proper garb, something, he assumed was not looked too favorably on.

"Sir?"

"What?" Snape snapped, glaring down at him.

Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat, before speaking. "I think we should find some place to stay nearby."

Snape rolled his eyes and turned away from Harry's anxious eyes. "Potter, we can't rest here for reasons that should be obvious to you."

"But sir, it wouldn't hurt to rest, would it?" Harry asked nervously. "I mean, just for a few hours." A few hours so he could be informed of what had happened, a few hours to come to terms that the anger and disappointment had been focused solely on Snape, a few hours to attempt to put Snape back in correct functioning order, a few hours of peace.

Snape looked like he had swallowed a lemon. Harry waited impatiently for a response, and he rocked back on his heels, hands clasped behind his back.

"Fine," Snape said with obvious reluctance.

"I'm afraid my Bulgarian is a little rusty," Harry said, attempting to lighten the mood. "I figured that just because the Monks spoke some English, it wasn't likely the rest of the country did."

"Too right," Snape said, examining the town around him. While he wasn't exactly fluent in Bulgarian, he had spent enough time with Karkaroff to get by. Barely.

"I bet we could find someone who could point us in the direction of a hotel or something."

"You have such a firm grasp of the obvious," Snape said, searching for someone that didn't look like a tourist. He finally decided to approach a young man sweeping the sidewalk outside of a cafe.

Attempting to hide his limp from Potter the best he could, he walked over to the man and asked in broken Bulgarian for a hotel.

Harry watched the two men speaking back and forth, and though he didn't know what they were saying, he could hear the Bulgarian having to repeat himself a number of times and Snape was looking more and more frustrated.

When he finally returned to Harry's side, he looked irritated. "How'd it go?" Harry asked warily.

"The man is an idiot," Snape growled, not wanting to admit that he hadn't the slightest clue what the man had been saying. "There's got to be somewhere around here, we'll just walk."

Harry nodded slowly and began moving alongside the frustrated man. It didn't take much insight to realize the normally surly man was even worse off now and any chance of a civil conversation was lost for the moment. The annoying bit was Harry really wanted to ask Snape if he was okay, but if he did, he was liable to have his head chewed off and spat out into a sewer drain. If Snape noticed his abnormal silence, he wasn't commenting on it, which spoke louder than the slight limp that Snape was obviously trying to hide, or the deep scowl that was clearing the way for them.

It was funny, in a twisted sort of way, even though Harry knew that if Snape kept up that attitude, they were never going to find a place to stay.

Forcing the ache of his body out of mind, Snape trudged up the street, looking for a hotel that didn't look like it would cost a fortune. Were he feeling even the least bit better, he'd go straight to the Monastery and get it over with, but he knew if he didn't rest, he would drop.

Harry pressed his lips into a thin line as he saw the slight sway in Snape's walking pattern. That certainly wasn't good. He glanced around him for a touristy couple hoping they would know of an affordable place to stay and spotted what looked like likely candidates perusing a shop window.

"I'll be right back," Harry said, halting Snape by touching his arm.

Snape looked at the spot on his arm where Harry had touched him, but said nothing as the boy backed away, then headed off toward a couple. Snape heard him say, "Excuse me, but I don't suppose you speak English," before tuning him out. For a moment, he thought he was going to pass out, his head beginning to spin.

Harry glanced over at his ex-professor with a small frown. He noted the sudden ashen quality of the man's face and his frown deepened in worry.

"Of course," the woman said brightly as if she hadn't seen who he was walking with. "There's one two streets over that me and my husband are staying at. It was the cheapest one we could find and I think there should be rooms available."

Harry forced a smile on his face and thanked the couple profusely, and made it to Snape's side just as he started to collapse. He quickly wrapped an arm around the taller man's waist, unthinkingly, catching him mid-drop and steadying him.

"And you tell me to be more mindful of myself," he muttered, trying to sound more annoyed than scared.

"I'm fine," Snape growled, shrugging Harry off and attempting to stand up straight.

"No, you aren't and it's not polite to lie," Harry growled, waiting for Snape's legs to buckle again. They did just that when Snape tried to move forward. Harry's arm was immediately around his waist again and his expression clearly said: 'I told you so.'

"Did you find out anything?" he asked, ignoring Harry's pointed look.

"Yes," Harry said, walking forward slowly. He could feel how much Snape loathed this, but he wouldn't let go until he knew the man could walk on his own. "There's a hotel two streets over that is supposedly the cheapest one around with good accommodations."

Snape nodded curtly and took a deep breath, forcing himself to stand on his own two feet. "Lead the way," he said, scowling at Harry who was looking at him with concern. "I can walk," he added irritably. In truth, he just wanted to lie down for awhile.

Harry gave him a measured look, but headed off in the direction the woman had pointed. In fact, he really had no idea how far "two streets over" was and for both their sakes and their dignity he hoped it wasn't a far walk. If Snape did in fact collapse on him and was unable to move any further, they were both fucked over big time. Harry couldn't hold all of Snape's weight, and he didn't want to risk casting a spell and having someone notice. Snape was following closely behind him and he was thankful for that.

It felt like miles, but was in fact only two blocks, before they came up to the doors of a nondescript hotel. Snape reached into his pocket, grabbed a handful of bills, and thrust them at Harry.

"Take care of it," he ordered, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes.

Harry nodded, worry very evident in his eyes. He walked through the doors and headed towards the reception desk. He flashed the elderly lady behind the counter a warm smile as he came to a stop in front of it.

"I need a room for one night," he said, with a winning smile, hoping she understood some English.

The white-haired lady offered a smile in return. But it became quickly apparent that this woman knew broken English at best.

"You want one room?" she asked with a thick accent.

"Yes, please," Harry said, nodding for emphasis.

The frail woman's smile widened in delight as she pushed a guest book towards Harry. He smiled picking up the pen and quickly wrote his name and Snape's name in under the list of guests already checked in. Then, he scribbled the number of days they'd be staying. He turned it around, placing the pen back in the middle of the pages, before pushing it back at her. She adjusted her glasses and peered at Harry's messy scrawl before her eyebrows shot up into her head in surprise.

"There two of you?" she asked slowly, as if confused.

Harry nodded and pointed to the door that Snape was just entering. The woman's expression was growing comical. Harry eyed her nervously, shooting an anxious look over his shoulder at Snape.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

She nodded with a thoughtful look, before tallying something up with a calculator then handed it over the desk to Harry. Harry looked at the number and then at the foreign currency in his hand with a puzzled expression. How come Snape was making him do this? It wasn't like the money here was any more familiar to him. He sighed, leafing through the bills, slowly growing accustomed to the sight and feel of the bills before handing the rough amount to the receptionist. Her patient, welcoming smile back in place, she handed him a room key with a number tag on it telling them the room. He thanked her politely, before walking over to where Snape was watching the proceedings.

"Here," he said, handing the key him.

Snape took the key and looked at the number, 114. He nodded toward the hallway leading to the rooms, scowling at the woman behind the desk. He could just imagine what was going through her mind and none of it was good.

They found the room easily enough and Snape opened the door and walked in, assuming Harry would follow him. Hardly thinking, Snape went straight to the bed and sat down, resting his head in his hands. It felt so good just to sit.

"Shit," Harry muttered, causing Snape to look up in alarm.

"What?" he asked, seeing no reason for concern.

Harry motioned toward the bed. "I told her there was two of us," he said, motioning to the single bed. He really didn't want to spend another night on the floor.

"She probably thinks you're a prostitute," Snape said, smirking. "Daft old woman."

Harry's eyes widened, before he broke down in laughter. "She thought...she thought," he wheezed, clutching his stomach in mirth.

"What did you expect?" Snape asked. "There's no other reasons a young man such as yourself would share a bed with someone like myself," he said derisively. "Go sort it out, I'll wait here," he said tiredly.

Harry cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Are we intending to actually stay here the night, sir?"

"I may have no choice," Snape said, annoyed that Potter of all people was seeing him weak. "At the very least, I need a couple of hours to rest," he added.

"All right," Harry said uneasily. He picked up the key that had been dropped to the floor and silently exited the room, carefully shutting the door so it didn't make a loud noise. He practically ran to the front desk, before slamming the key on the counter.

"There's only one bed," he bit out.

The woman nodded her head with a smile.

"Yes," she said, "one bed."

Harry groaned wanting to slam his head against the desk's surface, but thought better of it when his scar twinged. He prayed it was only a remnant from earlier and not a precursor to another wave of pain.

"There is two of us," Harry said slowly, "We want two," he held up two fingers to clarify, "beds."

The aged woman nodded again, the smile never faltering as she held up two fingers as well. "Two people," she recited.

Harry sighed in frustration. "Can we get a cot moved into the room?" he asked tiredly. The confused expression he was getting made it obvious she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Forget it," he mumbled, dragging the key against the dark wood desk top, before turning and exiting the lobby. He ran an aggravated hand through his messy black hair as he reached the door and inserted the key. He pushed it open, to see that Snape was sitting exactly how he had been when Harry had left.

Snape looked up to find Potter staring at him. "Well?" he asked.

"We're kind of stuck with it," Harry muttered.

Snape shook his head, too tired and in too much pain to worry about it. "Wake me in two hours and we'll go," he said, lying back on the bed. He moved to stretch out, but the pain in his ribs stopped him. In the end he lay on his side, slightly curled. "Just two hours," he said, and before Harry could say anything, Snape fell asleep.

"Two hours my arse," Harry grumbled, curling up in the armchair, settling himself in for what he knew was going to be a very long afternoon.


	9. Chapter 9

**Co-written with stormypup  
**

**  
Disclaimer: **A large part of the first chapter is taken straight from chapter 25 of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and belongs to J.K. Rowling, as does a good portion of chapter two. These have been modified by the authors to fit with the challenge. Chapter three onward was written solely by the authors using JKR's characters.

**A/N: **I love friends, especially grammatically inclined ones. I just got my own personal Remus to beta this chapter and I love her so very much.

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

Having quickly got bored watching Snape sleep, Harry decided to go out and get some food for them. He still had money left over from the room and figured that Snape would probably be hungry when he woke up. And even if Snape weren't, Harry was starving.

He left the hotel and went to a little cafe they had passed earlier. He had no clue about anything on the menu, and in the end, just pointed out a couple of different things at random, hoping he wasn't ordering cow tongue or something.

After a rather embarrassing mix up about taking the food with him back to the hotel, Harry returned to their room. Snape lifted his head at the sound of the door.

"Sorry, go back to sleep," Harry said softly. "It's not time yet," he lied, knowing that, no matter what Snape had said, two hours wasn't going to cut it.

Snape made a kind of grunting noise, put his head back down on the pillow, and then fell back into a restless sleep.

Harry sat at the small table and got out the food, trying a bit of everything before settling on something that tasted like something resembling chicken. He could only hope that Snape could eat the other stuff.

Once his stomach was full, he realized how tired he was himself. The few hours on the floor the night before mixed with the anxiety of the day finally caught up with him. With a last longing look at the bed, Harry took the pillow that Snape wasn't passed out on and tossed it onto the floor before following suit. It took awhile to get comfortable, but he was finally able to doze off.

* * *

Something was amiss. Snape woke up blearily; every bone in his body ached as he made to stretch out. The stiffness in his joints caused him to groan softly. He stayed still for a moment, willing his body to move in the manner to which he was accustomed.

Snape opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. A moment later he sat up straight, ignoring his protesting body, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The room was empty.

"Damn it, Potter," he growled, immediately annoyed that not only had the boy allowed him to sleep too long, but he had up and disappeared as well.

He stood up stiffly, hearing rather than just feeling his knees crack. Snape scowled as he limped around the side of the bed towards the bathroom. He didn't notice the lump on the floor because if he had he certainly wouldn't have stepped on it.

"Ow!"

"What the hell are you going on the floor?" Snape asked Harry who was glaring daggers at him.

"I couldn't exactly sleep on the bed, now could I?" Harry replied sarcastically.

"You should have awoken me sooner," Snape answered, continuing on to the bathroom. When he returned, Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed. "What now, Potter?"

Harry quirked an eyebrow. His hands were folded as he leaned his elbows on his knees. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Of course I'm all right," Snape snapped, ignoring the pain flaring in his ribs. "I just needed to rest. What's this?" he asked, pointing to the cold food on the table.

"Ah," Harry said, standing up off the bed. He crossed the room to the tiny table. "I was hungry and I didn't know when you were going to wake up, so I went out and brought some food." He frowned slightly. "It's probably cold by now, but luckily, this room came with a microwave." Harry pointed at the black box on the sink counter behind them. "There's also a coffee maker if you need it."

Snape looked at Harry blankly for a moment before sitting at the table and looking over the food. The sauce looked congealed, but he was fairly certain he'd eaten worse. Snape poked at it with a plastic fork, stabbing a piece of meat and sniffing it.

"Here," Harry said, pulling the food away from Snape and bringing it to said microwave. He could feel Snape's aggravated stare boring into the back of his head, but he paid the man no mind as he put the food in the microwave, and hit 'one, zero, zero' and pressed start. The microwave whirred into action and Harry leaned against the sink's counter waiting for the minute to pass.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked, looking at the machine curiously.

"Heating up your food," Harry said, his grin a bit smug.

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Is your wand broken?"

"No, but this is the safer, non-traceable way," Harry said, jamming the button to open the microwave door. The food inside was steaming like it had been when he first brought it. He pulled it out and brought it back over to where Snape was still sitting. He set the food before the man and stood back, waiting for whatever nasty remark the greasy git was going to make.

Snape poked at the food with his fork before taking a bite, fighting not to spit it out when it began to burn his tongue. "Hmph," he said, shrugging before continuing to eat. As soon as he took the first bite, he realized how hungry he was and proceeded to make short work of the food on his plate.

Harry snorted and went back to the double-sized bed and sat on the edge of it, just waiting. There wasn't much else he could do at this point.

When Snape was done eating, Harry asked the question that had been bothering him all afternoon. "He was mad, wasn't he?" he asked.

Snape's head snapped in Harry's direction.

"I mean, my scar, it was really hurting and it only does that when Volde— when he's really angry," he said lamely.

"Did you see anything?" Snape asked quickly.

Harry shook his head. "No, it just...hurt."

Snape sighed, resting his head in his hands. "The Dark Lord was not pleased," Snape said, refusing to go into details with the boy.

Harry waited for the other shoe to drop, but Snape had gone tight-lipped on him. Maybe with a little prompting. "Yes, and?"

"And nothing," Snape said, scowling at Harry. What did the brat expect? Was he waiting for a blow by blow account of what happens when Voldemort is angry? "Do you really want all of the gory details?" Snape asked disdainfully. "Would you like to know what happens when the Dark Lord is displeased? I think not, Potter."

"I already know," Harry said quietly. He glanced down at his clenched hands. If Snape was insinuating what he thought he was, then how the hell did he manage to come back still standing?

"Then you should know that I have no wish to talk about it," Snape snapped angrily.

"I'm sorry I worried about you, sir," Harry spat. He stood up, and, with determined strides, entered the tiny bathroom, and then slammed the door shut.

Snape clenched his teeth as the door slammed behind him. He was not accustomed to explaining himself to anyone other than Dumbledore. The last thing he wanted was to explain things to Potter, of all people. Though loathe to admit it, there were things the boy should know and things Snape was going to have to tell him.

"Potter! Get out here!" he yelled.

"NO!"

"Stop acting like a child!"

"Then stop treating me like one!"

Snape clenched his fists. "Then get out here and I will!"

Harry gripped the doorknob and jerked the door open harshly and stepped back out into the room, fists clenched by his side, his jaw ticking slightly. He remained silent.

"Well?"

"He's angry about Draco running off and he's angry that you have disappeared and I have no idea where!" Snape sneered. "Does that satisfy you?"

Harry blinked, scowling slightly, but his tense stance eased as he ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "He took it all out on you then?"

"Not just me, no," Snape replied. "Just enough to remind me who my master is," he said spitefully.

Harry nodded once and turned away, trying to suppress the look of relief and suspicion. Snape was looking at him with disdain and it wouldn't help him to appear worried still. It wasn't a stretch of the imagination to figure out how much pain the greasy git was in. He could see it in every movement the man took and Harry felt guilty because for the most part it was his fault. He had up and disappeared and because of his insatiable sense of duty and honor Snape had been punished.

Snape glared at the back of Harry's head for a moment, and when no other questions were forthcoming, he changed the subject.

"You allowed me to sleep for too long, I'm afraid it's too late to go to the Monastery," he said.

"It isn't as though I didn't pay for us to stay here the night," Harry pointed out, finally turning back around, a small smirk in place. "The floor isn't so bad as long as you don't get stepped on."

Snape made a non-committal noise before moving to sit on the bed. The two sat in awkward silence for a time until Harry said, "I suppose we could watch the telly."

"'Telly'?" Snape sneered.

Harry just pointed at the black television set that was on top of the dresser in front of the bed.

"That."

"Do whatever you wish; just don't leave the room. I need a shower," Snape said, getting to his feet, walking to the bathroom, and closing the door softly behind him. He turned on the water, setting it as hot as he could stand it. Perhaps it would help soothe away some of the aches.

Harry shrugged and went over to the television. He pressed the power button , not really caring what it was set. It was some movie, but it had already begun. It was better than nothing at all, anyway. He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees and chin resting on his hands. He sighed heavily as he watched the drama unfurl on the screen. It had been a long time since he had seen any television at all, so he couldn't tell if this movie was better or worse in comparison.

In reality, he was only half paying attention to what was happening on screen. His gaze flickered to the shut bathroom door, and a small scowl formed on his lips. Why had he gotten so angry earlier when Snape hadn't told him what happened? It wasn't exactly like they were friends or even confidants, but when Snape had refused it had tasted of bitter betrayal. But why? Why would he even associate betrayal with Snape when it came to something so trivial as that? Perhaps not trivial, but Snape keeping tight-lipped should have been accepted not to mention expected, so why had he forced the issue? He hated Snape, right? RIGHT!?

He rubbed his face furiously and fell back on the bed. Of course he didn't hate Snape. If he hated the bastard, he would have just left him on the street barely moving. He wouldn't be in this room, still thinking about this. He growled, bringing a pillow over his head as if to smother himself with it. Was it really so bad not to hate Snape?

"Of course it's bad," he whispered into the pillow aggressively. It wasn't as though Snape cared one whit about him. His respect was unfounded to say the least, and the worry he still felt shouldn't by natural rights be there. Maybe someone was messing with his head because there was no way he had been worried. And he certainly wasn't worried now! Nope, the feeling he got when he saw the lines under Snape's eyes or watched the man limp across the room was nothing. It was indigestion from eating the foreign food and being thought a prostitute. It had absolutely nothing to do with fear or nerves. Nothing!

Snape got out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He spelled his clothing clean before putting it back on. His hair still damp, he left the bathroom to find Potter sprawled out on the bed with a pillow over his head.

"There are faster ways to kill youself, though I must admit it cuts down on the mess if you do it that way," Snape said, sitting at the small table. "They aren't even speaking English," he said, motioning towards the television.

Harry pulled his face off the pillow and glared. "No, really?"

"Why even have the blasted thing on? You can't understand a word; it's just noise," Snape said disdainfully.

"Because it is just noise," Harry mumbled, pulling the pillow back over his head.

"Quit sulking," Snape said, scowling at Potter.

_Git_. Harry pulled the pillow off his face again and refrained from sticking out his tongue childishly. "Yes, sir," he groused, sitting up and putting the pillow behind his head this time. He stared at Snape, willing him to move away from the television set.

Despite not having a clue what they were saying, Snape found himself watching the television, almost mesmerized. He wrote it off to being exhausted that something so inane could be so oddly comforting.

"Sir?" Harry ventured after a very long moment.

"Hmm?" Snape said tiredly.

"I'm glad you're all right."

Snape looked at Harry curiously, searching his face for sarcasm, but found none there. "Thank you," he said, frowning. He wasn't at all sure what to make of the comment and it had left him a little off balance.

Harry grinned, inwardly he was cackling. It wasn't often that he could throw Snape off like this and he wasn't about to say anything to balls it up.

After another long awkward silence, Snape got to his feet and began to pace, aware of Harry's eyes following him.

Harry stifled a yawn as he watched Snape pace back and forth like a caged animal. "Sir, could you possibly stop?" he asked hopefully.

Snape stopped and scowled at Harry before returning to his seat. "Do you think there's a spy in the Order?" he asked, taking Harry by surprise.

"I never thought about it," Harry answered with a confused frown.

"There's no reason for the Dark Lord to know that you've disappeared unless someone from the Order told him," Snape said, deep in thought.

"But...who would?" Harry asked, having issues wrapping his mind around the very idea that anyone in the Order would betray the cause like that.

Snape looked at Harry thoughtfully. "I don't know, but something isn't right. I'm beginning to wonder if you should even go back."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. "Sir?" he asked, curiously wondering what Snape was thinking.

"You said that nobody knows where you are, that you just left, correct?" Snape asked and Harry nodded.

"I'm sure the Order is up in arms about it by now, but there is no reason for anyone else to know that you aren't where you should be, which begs the question: is there a spy in the Order, feeding information to the Dark Lord?" Snape stated, the wheels in his mind beginning to turn.

Harry stared at him dumbly. In his mind he could picture the scene clearly: Ron outraged, Hermione pulling at him trying to calm him down, Ginny silently laughing at both of them, Mrs. Weasley in hysterics, McGonagall looking like a stick had been rammed up her bum, Tonks asking a dozen different questions, Remus clenching a cup of tea head bowed in silent worry, Mundungus pretending to sleep as always. Then there was the remaining Order members whom he hardly knew at all, but none of them seemed like the bad sort.

"Sir, what if it's not someone directly in the Order? What if someone let it slip in worry and someone overheard?"

"Possibly," Snape said. "Some of them are stupid enough to let it slip in worry," he added, thinking of Mundungus in particular. "No matter, as there is nothing I can do about it at the moment. First, the cup, then I'll deal with it," Snape said, feeling as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

Damn Dumbledore for doing this to him!

"Listen, Snape, I don't know about you, but I have no idea what to expect from the monks this time. I doubt they'll be nice enough to just open their vaults and say enjoy, and I was rather hoping you might have a plan."

"Of course I have a plan," Snape said, scowling. In truth, his plan involved scouting out the situation and making a decision from there, but Potter didn't need to know that. "First thing tomorrow, we'll go see what we can find out. Then, it's just a matter of getting the cup off the premises," he said as if it were a given that they would succeed.

"I never would have pegged you as an optimist," Harry murmured, staring at the taller man pensively.

Snape chuckled. "I'm surprised: I practically ooze optimism."

"Shut it," Harry mumbled, grinning slightly.

Snape's lip quirked into something resembling a smile. By all rights, he should hex the brat for his lax attitude, but Snape couldn't seem to muster the energy to care. He just wanted for it all to be over.

"You should sleep; we may not get another chance for some time," he said, getting to his feet and looking at the bed.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, worry flooding back into him again. He mentally berated himself for the emotion.

"Yes," Snape said, pulling the duvet from the bed and tossing it onto the floor. "I won't be able to sleep for some time; you might as well take the bed," he said, sitting at the table once again. There were too many things going on in his mind to allow for sleep.

Harry nodded and toed off his shoes, before falling back onto the pillow and curling into a ball. Despite not being tired, it was only a few moments before he had drifted off.

An hour later, Snape realized that he had spent the previous twenty minutes watching Potter sleep. With a weary sigh, he used a bit of magic to transfigure the duvet cover into something more comfortable. He lay down and listened to Harry's even breathing until he fell into a restless sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Co-written with stormypup**

**Disclaimer: **A large part of the first chapter is taken straight from chapter 25 of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and belongs to J.K. Rowling, as does a good portion of chapter two. These have been modified by the authors to fit with the challenge. Chapter three onward was written solely by the authors using JKR's characters.

**A/N: **Happy Spring, Everyone! I hope your day was warm and nice, mine was!

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

Harry wasn't entirely surprised when he found himself waking up in the middle of the night gasping in pain. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his eyes darted around the unfamiliar settings. He could feel panic well up inside of him as he struggled to remember where he was. He didn't know where he was.

He twisted under the covers, realizing that he was fully dressed. Panicked whimpers emerged from his throat as he fought with the comforter and sheets.

Snape awoke to the sound of thrashing in the bed above him. Harry's whimper had him on his feet, wand out, searching the room for danger. "Lumos!" he cried, and the room brightened considerably.

Harry was sitting upright in the bed, his fists clenched around the sheets, eyes wide with panic. "Potter?" Snape said, feeling uncertain. Danger was one thing, dealing with nightmares other than his own was quite another. Harry's eyes flew to his, but were completely lacking recognition.

Snape sat down on the bed and shook Harry roughly. "Potter!" he said, his voice sounding like a shout in the silence of the night.

Harry cringed and went still, soft pained whimpers bubbling out of his mouth. His green eyes stared unknowingly at the taller man beside his bed. He looked familiar and Harry tried to remember why this stranger was familiar to him.

"Where am I?" he asked, trembling as he pulled the covers up to his nose.

"Potter! Wake up!" Snape ordered, frowning and shaking Harry's shoulder. Either he was in the throes of a vision, or he was just having a bad nightmare. Either way, Snape needed him to snap out of it.

Harry squeaked and shied away from the touch, eyes brimming with tears. Oh his uncle and aunt were going to be so angry when he was sent back and this scary man was going to hurt him. Harry attempted to shift under the blankets more in attempts to hide.

"Did you kidnap me?" he asked voice quaking.

_Kidnapped??_

Snape sat back, his frown deepening. What in the name of Merlin was wrong with the boy. "Finite Incatatum!" he said, pointing his wand at Harry. If Potter was under a spell, he hoped he could break it, but Harry was only looking more terrified.

Harry was crying now, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he stared up in terror at the dark man.

"Don' hurt me," he cried, curling into a ball.

"Oh for...I'm not going to hurt you," Snape replied, scowling at Harry who was curled into a ball on the bed. What in the hell was going on? Was Voldemort controlling him somehow? Was it even safe to be in the same room with him? He was at a complete and total loss.

"Potter...Harry...?" he said, voice trailing off. What was he supposed to say?

"How you know my name?" He squeaked in a terrified, wide eyed manner. He was still trembling but not as badly as curiosity over came his fear.

"Why are you talking like a five year old?" Snape asked, his sense of panic rising.

Harry looked at him with fear and a bit of awe. "Cause I am, sir?" he said shakily as if fearing being reprimanded for it.

Snape blinked. "Because I am," Snape said, automatically correcting his grammar. He sat down on the bed once again and looked at Harry thoughtfully.

Age regression spell? Was his memory erased? It wasn't possible. Even the Dark Lord would have to at least be in the same room with the boy. Wouldn't he?

Snape's grip on his wand tightened. "Potter, what's the last thing you remember?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

Harry blinked and frowned deeply, gnawing on his lower lip in thought. "I don' remember, sir." Harry finally admitted bowing his head and looking at his hands in his lap. They were big. He held them up to his face in abject fascination, before looking back up at the dark man as if he would know why his hands were so big.

"I've got to get you out of here," Snape said, afraid that any minute the Death Eaters were going to blast the door in to get to them.

"Where are we?" Harry asked again, feeling nervous just because the man was darting glances at the door.

"Bulgaria," Snape said. "I'm Severus Snape, you're Harry Potter and we're in Bulgaria," Snape said, getting to his feet and gathering their things together as quickly as he could. "What in the bloody hell is going on?" he muttered.

Harry tilted his head to the side, eye brows furrowed in thought. The name was familiar everything about this was familiar and he didn't think that was quite right. The name Snape resonated within him and left him more confused. It was important. The name was important for more than one reason but he couldn't remember why.

And why was he in Bulgaria? And where were his aunt and uncle? Did they know he was here, did they care? He felt tears prickling his eyes as he thought of his birthday recently where all he got was a rubber band and that had snapped and hurt his hand not even an hour after receiving it. They didn't like him very much, did they? And Mr. Snape seemed to be nice enough. He hadn't done much more than point at stick at him. And that brought him to another problem. That stick. Something was important about it and the rushed words Mr. Snape had said.

Magic, his mind supplied helpfully for him. He gasped as his eyes suddenly widened in recognition. He groaned miserably, pulling the blankets back over his head in embarrassment. He couldn't remember the last time he had woken up in that bad a state, definitely not at Hogwarts though.

"Shit," he swore into the mattress.

Snape had watched the wheels practically turning in Harry's head. "Potter?" he asked, when Harry's face finally cleared, but the boy pulled the blankets over his head.

"Damn it," Snape growled, stalking to the bed and ripping the covers off of Harry. "You're not five!" he shouted in frustration.

Harry glared at the older man. "Fuck, don't you think I realize that," he said with a scowl.

Snape stepped back, surprised. "Then why in the name of Merlin were you acting like it?!" he snapped.

Harry blushed, wishing Snape hadn't dropped the comforter on the floor so he could hide his flaming face. "I...I don't react normally to certain situations," he admitted, ashamed of his own mind.

"Really?" Snape asked sarcastically. "What brought that on?" he asked, curiously. "Was it the Dark Lord?"

"Sorta," Harry mumbled unable to hold Snape's gaze any longer and closed his eyes.

"There is no 'sort of', Potter. If it was the Dark Lord I need to know. We may be in danger!"

"No, not in that sense," Harry said calmly or as calmly as one could when they were trying to stop from shaking. "We're safe."

"Would you know if we were?" Snape asked derisively, not at trusting Potter's instincts at the moment.

Harry looked at Snape uncertainly. At this point in time he really had nothing to lose anymore. His dignity had snuck out the backdoor when he hadn't been looking. He sighed and looked down at his hands, tracing his life line on one palm.

"Explain yourself," Snape ordered.

"It's not a short story, sir."

"We're stuck here until morning," Snape said, sitting at the table. "I need to know," Snape said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. If Potter didn't tell him, he would get the information in a less pleasant way.

Harry sighed. "Which part do you want first? The bit about how I know we're safe for now or the bit about why I woke up under the delusion that I was only five?"

"I think it best that you start at the beginning," Snape said, watching Harry carefully.

"All right." Harry inhaled deeply, sorting through his thoughts. There was only so much Snape had seen when entering his memories and he was about to expound upon them, something he never, ever thought he would do in a million years or even want to. And he wanted to. He wanted someone to know about what he went through as a child. "It started October 31, 1981," he began, noting Snape's look of disbelief.

Snape arched a brow, but said nothing. When he said beginning, he didn't mean the beginning of Potter's whole life. He waited impatiently for Harry to continue.

"The night Dumbledore left me on the Dursely's doorstep to be taken care of." Harry ran a hand through his hair backwards mussing it up more. "I don't have any recollection of the first two years but the first thing I remember was my fourth birthday, or the birthday I was forced in the cupboard under the stairs for the first time. My best friends were spiders. I fancied they were talking back to me as I told them what I did that day. That they actually cared about me.

"It was when I was five that I started to ask about my own parents and that was when the lies began. They told me my dad was a drunk and my mother was a worthless whore and they died in a car crash. They told me they were good for nothings and I was no better than they were." Harry swallowed hard, looking at the wall behind the bed contemplating how to go about this next bit. "It was after that first time they told me that I began to get nightmares. Always a flash of light and high pitched laughter, I could never remember the rest of it when I woke up, just the light and laughter. I tried to tell my aunt this the next morning and she hit me with a spatula and told me to never mention such things again."

Snape frowned. The boy talked to spiders? Sweet Merlin, was he daft in the head?

As the story continued, Snape's frowned turned to a look of confusion. James Potter could very well have been a drunk, and Snape wouldn't have doubted it for a moment, but Lily? A whore? That was about as likely as Snape winning a popularity contest.

"The curse," Snape found himself saying aloud when Harry described the light and the laughter. He remembered that? But he was so young when it happened, though Snape's memory of the first time his father struck him was rather young as well.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably, not quite looking at Snape but at a spot over his shoulder. "I hear my parents die when I'm near Dementors, now that I think about it, I'm not surprised. But you wanted to know why I was acting five, not shit like that." He rubbed his hands over his face aggressively.

"I'm certain by now Dumbledore must have told you about my connection with Volde- the Dark Lord," he corrected quickly.

"Of course," Snape said. "He was going to work on your Occlumency skills before..." Snape trailed off, not wanting to go down that road at the moment. "Suffice to say, that is why he chose to keep you in the dark about so many things. The Dark Lord could easily find information that we could not let him have," Snape said, frowning.

"Well, it's not only a one way operation. I don't only feed information to him, but when his feelings are very strong, I get a glimpse of his thoughts and feelings as well. It's not a pretty place to be." Harry rubbed his arms uncomfortably. "The first time I woke up disoriented and thinking I was younger than I was, was when I was nine, of course the Durselys never noticed the difference and it took me a lot longer to get over it then it did tonight. I don't understand why it happens, sir, it just does and I'm sorry."

Snape's mind was filing away information and sorting it in order of importance. "Do these moments of disorientation last long? Do I need to worry about trying to get a five-year-old mind to do the things a grown man is expected to do?" he asked, needing to know how bad it could get. It might be better for everyone if he sent Potter back to the Order.

But what if there was a spy in their ranks? Snape was still not entirely sure on that point.

"No, counting right now it's only happened three times. The last time was a year ago in the summer right after Sirius fell through the veil," he admitted quietly.

Snape nodded. At least the odds were slim this would happen again while Harry was with him. He didn't like how vulnerable to danger he felt when Potter was in the midst of his spell. "Anything else I need to know?" Snape asked.

"No sir," Harry said softly. "I'm sorry I woke you."

Snape waved the apology away, his mind already moving on. He was going to have to resume Potter's Occlumency lessons. The Dark Lord could not find out about him which he could easily do were he to try and invade Potter's mind.

"We need to resume your Occlumency lessons," Snape said, not at all pleased with the prospect.

Harry groaned and fell backwards on the bed. "Thank you," he grit out.

"Don't pout," Snape ordered. "I do not wish to be killed because you cannot keep certain thoughts hidden away."

Harry's face paled and he nodded. He hadn't thought about that. Just being in this room with him could endanger Snape's life. His eyes were wide as he sat back up.

"I...sorry," he mumbled, feeling shaky from that thought.

"As am I," Snape said, still looking at Harry with a furrowed brow.

"Sir?"

"Gods, he left such a mess behind," Snape said, unsure why he had spoken the words aloud.

Harry couldn't help but nod in agreement not even needing to ask who Snape was talking about. "Do you miss him?" Harry asked curiously.

_Everyday_, Snape thought, but only gave Harry a curt nod. He did not want to talk about Dumbledore and wished he had never brought him up.

Harry stared at Snape for a long moment, searching his face for something, anything to clue him in on the man's mental state but like always Snape's face was on lock down, not a hint of emotion other than irritation showing through.

He wanted to apologize for asking but that would mean risking Snape's wrath for an entirely different reason.

"I do too," he whispered, eyes downcast.

The two of them sat in silence, but for the first time it wasn't awkward. After a time, Snape cleared this throat. "Perhaps you should try and sleep. There are a few more hours before the sun comes up, and we can do nothing before then."

"All right," Harry said, laying down against the pillow and inhaling deeply. He looked up at Snape for a moment, before asking: "Are you going to go back to sleep as well?"

Snape shook his head. "No, given circumstances, I have to change some of my initial plans," he said, already losing himself in thought. "Sleep while you can."

"All right." Harry burrowed his head into the soft pillow. "G'night again, sir."

Snape arched an eyebrow, but the effect was lost as Harry was already sleeping. The lanky man snorted and sat down at the small table where he had dined early that night. He waited until he was absolutely positive that Potter was asleep before, rubbing his hands aggressively over his face and sighing loudly. Too many thoughts crowded his mind each vying for a bit of his time, but he brushed them aside, instead focusing on what was to happen later that day.


	11. Chapter 11

**Co-written with stormypup**

**Disclaimer: **A large part of the first chapter is taken straight from chapter 25 of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and belongs to J.K. Rowling, as does a good portion of chapter two. These have been modified by the authors to fit with the challenge. Chapter three onward was written solely by the authors using JKR's characters.

**Beta'd by Rakina**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

Locating the actual cup from the monastery had turned out to be ridiculously easy. They went to the monastery first thing in the morning and were given a tour of the place. After a few well placed questions they found out that the more sacred relics were locked away in the catacombs under the building.

They left the monastery by noon, and Apparated back in after dark. The hardest part was exploring the catacombs without becoming hopelessly lost or walking in circles.

The catacombs seemed to stretch on forever and in every direction. Harry paused mid-step and swayed on his feet. Snape's eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch at this and he could barely mask his shock as Harry fell right into him. His arms reflexively went out and caught the boy, whose breathing was labored.

"Potter," he snapped, gripping the boy's jaw as he forced Harry to look at him but what he saw almost caused Snape to drop him. The boy's eyes were rolled up into his head and from the way his mouth was moving it appeared as if he was speaking.

Snape tried shaking Harry and calling his name repeatedly, but to no avail. His sense of panic rising, he wrapped Harry in his arms and attempted to Apparate, but nothing happened. He tried again, and still nothing.

Potter was seizing in his arms and it was all he could do not to drop the brat to the stone floor. That would be a bad idea. His own sense of panic was rising exponentially as the minutes passed. He was constantly telling the foolish boy to snap out of it even though he knew it to be a fruitless endeavor. The only way out would be to carry him back the way they had come and he did not like that idea at all. He tried again in desperation to Apparate them both out but once again nothing happened.

Harry's head lolled on his neck as he suddenly slumped forward, not moving.

"Potter," Snape said brusquely not shaking the boy but the desire to do so was strong. He found his annoyance was curbed when glassy, green eyes locked onto his. "Sweet Merlin, you aren't going to cry are you?" he sneered, trying to keep up an unaffected front.

"I'm sorry," Harry croaked, a few tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. "Never should have come along with you. Shouldn't a done it. I should have stayed at the Weasleys'," he babbled in between hiccupping sobs.

Snape's eyes widened in horror. "Is it the Dark Lord? Is he here?" he asked, his eyes darting around the darkness.

"No," Harry said wretchedly, squeezing his eyes shut as he pushed himself away from the Potions m aster, glad that the man hadn't already pushed him away but knowing if he didn't move away on his own he would find himself flat on the floor. "He knows I'm here with you."

Snape's panic translated into anger. "He knows we're together?" Snape asked angrily. "And not only that, he knows where we are? Good Lord, Potter, have you any idea what you've done?" he asked, horrified.

"I didn't bloody well mean to!" Harry screamed, hugging himself. "Do you think I wanted him to find out?"

"What, exactly, does he know, Potter?" Snape asked before hissing in pain. The Dark Mark felt like it was on fire and Snape had grabbed his arm, holding back a scream.

Harry's eyes widened in panic and fear. "He knows you are with me and that you aren't loyal to his cause, and he knows that we are in Bulgaria and that we are looking for one of the Horcruxes," he babbled, wringing his hands. "He doesn't know that we know what we're looking for and he doesn't know we're in the catacombs."

"Damn it," Snape growled, his teeth clenched against the pain. "We've got to find the cup," he rasped. Everything he had done, everything he had sacrificed was all for nothing. He wasn't going to lose the blasted cup on top of everything else.

"Block your feeble mind, Potter," Snape said, his dark eyes boring into Harry. "Fight with everything you've got in you. If he knows we're here, it won't be long before there are others here. We have to find the cup and go!"

Harry nodded vigorously attempting to do just as the man told him, but it was hard. He was too damn worried about Snape's condition than what Voldemort might glean from him. Since it was obvious that the Dark Lord was too busy torturing Severus for his betrayal rather than digging for information in Harry's mind, Harry couldn't stop thinking enough to block his mind.

"It would be great if we knew which passage we were supposed to go down," Harry muttered, keeping one eye constantly on the man walking stiffly beside him.

"If we can't Apparate out, they cannot Apparate in," Snape said, clutching his arm tightly. "This ruddy maze of corridors may be the only thing that keeps us alive," Snape said, listening for any sound of movement outside of themselves.

"Or the thing that kills us."

Harry held out his wand casting _Lumos_, happy for the extra light it afforded them.

Snape snorted mirthlessly in agreement. The next flash of pain in his arm had him collapsing against the nearest wall, breathing heavily. He should get Harry out of there before they were trapped. But he had to find the cup. It had to be destroyed before the Dark Lord took it somewhere else.

The pain was so bad that he couldn't think straight. He didn't know the right choice: save Harry or destroy the cup?

Harry was beside himself in panic. He had never seen the man lose his composure like that before and it left him teetering dangerously on the edge as well. He didn't want to think of what could happen if Voldemort put Snape entirely out of commission.

He glanced down the darkened, dank corridor when something caught his eyes. It seemed like the wall was...glowing. How odd. He glanced at Snape for a moment before curiosity got the better of him. His conscience was scolding him for walking forward into a potentially dangerous situation again, but at this rate what did he have left to lose?

Snape had closed his eyes against the pain and when he opened them again, Potter was halfway down the hall. "Potter," said, but his voice hardly carried. Forcing himself away from the wall, he staggered after the boy.

Harry turned around only to have Snape stumble into him. Harry put his hands on the man's shoulders to steady him.

"It's glowing," he said without preamble when he was certain Snape was seeing straight again, pointing over his shoulder down the corridor to where the faint light was being emitted.

Snape nodded and they made their way toward the glowing light. Snape held Harry back and pointed his wand at the door, searching for wards.

"Stay here," Snape said, stumbling toward the glowing door. Voldemort had warded the door so that anyone other than a Muggle who stepped through it would be in unbearable pain. When he was next to the door, he said as many counter charms as he could remember, hoping beyond hope they would make a difference. He turned back to Harry.

"Whatever happens, do not follow me through this doorway, is that understood?" Snape asked, his breath coming in short pants.

"But-" Harry said in protest but was cut off by a stern glare that seemed to slice through him. His heart was lodged in his throat and he couldn't swallow as he watched Snape push against the rough stone door. He would obey for a time, but if Snape looked to be in too much pain...there was just no way he was going to lose the bastard like this. Not in the same way Dumbledore had been lost. He just couldn't, not again.

It felt as though someone had run a red-hot poker between Snape's ribs and into his chest. The muscles in his neck were bulging and his eyes were shut tightly against the pain. Everything inside of him was screaming to stop, to give up, just walk away. But if he did, he would never be free. All his sacrifices would have been for naught.

With an inhuman scream, he pushed through the magical barrier of the doorway.

Harry almost ran after the man to pull him back when he heard the scream and then Snape disappeared into the darkened room. Harry fidgeted with his wand, keeping himself on alert for anyone coming towards them while he fought the urge to vomit. His eyes were watering as time crept by slowly. Every minute that passed caused Harry's nerves to spike to dangerous levels.

He had never felt so sick with worry, because in most situations he wasn't on the outside just waiting. He was normally in the thick of the action and his imagination never had chance to take over. Well, it was now and the images it was producing were enough to make him stumble into the wall beside the door and sink to the floor. He fisted his hair, trying to distract himself from his own mind.

"He's okay, he's all right, he's okay." Harry's desperation was reaching a fever-pitch as hot tears poured down his cheeks. According to his wristwatch fifteen minutes had passed since Snape had entered the room and there were no outward signs of movement coming from inside.

When Snape finally stumbled back through the doorway, he had no idea how much time had passed. It felt like an eternity. His hair was soaked with sweat, and he was having a hard time seeing straight, but he had the cup clutched in his hand.

When at first he didn't see Harry, he panicked, his immediate thought was that Voldemort or his followers had taken him. But movement out of the corner of his eye told him that he was wrong.

"Get up," Snape said, his throat raw and his voice hoarse, his eyes squinting in the darkness. He thought he heard the faint sounds of voices, but there were too many corridors to know which way they were coming from.

Harry's head snapped up at the rasped command, his eyes wide and wet. "You're okay," he breathed as if he truly hadn't expected him to come out of that alive.

Snape was too tired to respond. He was far from okay , but he was still alive and hoped to remain so. The pain in his arm had been nearly overridden by his other pains, but now that he was back in the corridor, he felt the pain in his arm all too well.

"We've got to get out," he rasped, looking at Harry who was still staring at him in disbelief.

This brought Harry back to the present situation at hand. He nodded once clambering to his feet, staring in awe at the gold goblet that Snape was clutching tightly.

"Right," he said, wand clenched tightly in his hands again as he finally heard the same voices Snape had earlier.

Snape searched for someplace to hide, but finding nothing offhand, he motioned to Harry and they moved deeper into the catacombs. His finally saw a small door which he unlocked with his wand, pulling Harry in after him.

With a brief glance at the empty room, Snape said, "Nox," and his wand stopped glowing. Harry's soon followed suit.

Harry tensed when he heard the voices getting closer. They weren't speaking English so he had no idea what they were saying. The darkness was all-encompassing and he struggled with himself not to crack under claustrophobia. He edged closer to Snape until he was touching him. His hand groped blindly for anything and found the man's hand first. It was clenched in a fist but it didn't matter to Harry, it was skin. He was touching a living breathing person. He wasn't locked up and alone in the darkness.

Snape was momentarily startled when Harry's hand found his, but he didn't pull away. The last thing he needed was Harry coming unglued at the wrong moment. The voices were coming nearer, and Harry clenched Snape's hand almost painfully when he heard the latch on the door rattle.

Snape tensed, prepared to unleash a number of spells on whoever walked through the door, but nobody did and the voices moved on.

Harry's heart was beating at an alarmingly irregular pace and he no longer noticed the people outside their door, nor did he notice the way Snape had tensed, wand drawn, curses on the tip of his tongue. His hand clenched tightly around Snape's and he was pressed back to back with the man, trying to get himself to calm down. He hated small places. He hated dark places. He hated small, dark places even more.

Even when the voices faded, Snape could tell that Harry hadn't relaxed at all. In fact, he seemed to be working himself up even more.

"Potter, breathe," Snape hissed as Harry's nails began to dig into his skin.

"I can't," Harry whispered in pain. He was closing his eyes to block out nothing at all. He had to center himself and he really had no idea of how to go about doing so. His breath was coming out in sharp, strangled gasps and despite not being able to see his hand in front of his face he knew his vision was swimming.

Snape shifted around so that he was facing Harry. He said a spell creating the smallest glow on his wand tip and held it up to Harry's face. The boy had his eyes closed and was muttering something that Snape didn't understand.

"Potter!" he hissed a little louder. He squeezed Harry's face between his fingers. "Potter, look at me!" he ordered.

Harry opened his eyes as commanded, his mouth opened as he continued to inhale with a gasp.

"Breathe, Potter," Snape said, keeping his eyes locked on Harry's. There was no way he could get the two of them out of there alone. He wasn't even sure he could make it out on his own. "Look at me and breathe," he ordered softly.

Harry stayed locked in the gaze as he attempted to regulate his breathing. At such a close distance it wasn't hard to see how much pain Snape was in and how ragged he looked. Harry couldn't blink or turn away as his breathing slowly and painfully went back to normal. His chest felt like it was on fire and distantly he could feel blood trickling out of his nose.

"N-no," Harry stammered, a blush rising up his neck and infusing his cheeks with color.

Snape released Harry's face, and leaned against the wall, sliding painfully to the stone floor. "We have to wait awhile before we try and leave," he said tiredly. "The Dark Lord may try to breach your defenses to find out where we went. You've got to block him out," Snape said, closing his eyes as he leaned his head against the wall.

The pain in his arm had lessened, but he had no doubt it would be back soon enough.

"I don't know how," Harry admitted feebly, already missing the contact.

"Yes you do," Snape said, looking up at Harry in the faint wand light. "You could block me when you wanted it badly enough. Our lives depend on it," he said, feeling resigned. He was exhausted and hurting and he was stuck in a stone room. They couldn't afford Voldemort to learn anything about them. If he found out they were still in the catacombs, the Death Eaters wouldn't stop until they found them.

"It only happens when I'm angry," Harry refuted, knowing it sounded stupid and knowing that Snape was about ready to drop from exhaustion.

Snape pulled his knees up and rested his forehead against them. "Then we're dead," Snape whispered before lifting his head up to look at Harry again.

Using the wall for support, Snape got to his feet. "We have no choice but to go," he said, closing his eyes against the dizziness. "If he learns we are still in the catacombs we'll be cornered," he said, taking a steadying breath and moving away from the wall.

Harry was at his side in an instant. Snape was in a bad way. Why the hell had he insisted on being the one to retrieve the damn cup? It wasn't like Harry had the ability to carry the bastard anywhere; he wasn't strong enough. At least if Harry passed out, he knew Snape would be more than capable of hauling his sorry arse elsewhere. As it were, if Snape passed out Harry would either have to risk using magic near Muggles or just dragging him through the catacombs and neither was appealing.

But Snape was right. If they stayed here much longer they were as good as dead. Harry was certain that Voldemort had already sent out a band of Death Eaters to look for them and the sooner they got out of the catacombs and Bulgaria the better.

Snape was swaying dangerously and was deathly pale. Harry gulped, afraid that if he tried to help at this point in time he'd be hexed. So he just stuck close to Snape's side in case the man decided he needed help.

He stepped away just long enough to press his ear against the wooden door, listening intently, but there was no sound to be heard. He grasped the handle and looked over his shoulder for confirmation to go ahead and open it. Snape nodded wearily, eyeing Harry disinterestedly. The raven-haired boy opened the door cautiously and peered down the darkened halls.

"All clear," he said, taking a step out of the storage closet they had hidden in.

Snape reached out a long arm and grabbed Harry by the back of his shirt, pulling him backwards. "I'll go first," he growled, practically shoving Harry behind him. "If we're attacked, you run, do you understand?"

Harry was about to protest, but Snape cut him off. "You are too important to lose, Potter, and as of tonight, my worth to this cause is done. You will obey me in this," he warned darkly.

"Yes, sir," Harry ground out, but had no intention of obeying Snape. He wouldn't leave him on his own to face a group of angry and betrayed Death Eaters. "Can we go now?" he asked. Snape was barely able to stand and he expected Harry to just cut and run at the first sign of trouble? Not bloody likely, Harry thought.

Maybe Hermione was right and he did have a 'saving people thing'. Never in his life had he thought he might have to save Snape of all people. He knew that he had an important part to play in this war, probably the most important part, but Harry wasn't going to let other people die just so he could kill Voldemort one day.

"Wands out," Snape whispered needlessly, for they both had their wands clenched tightly in their hands.

Harry couldn't help but notice that Snape wasn't just hugging the wall for stealth, but to keep upright. "Yeah, I'm just gonna leave you," Harry murmured softly under his breath.

They made their way silently down the corridor.

Every sound that echoed through the corridors caused them to freeze in fear. Now they knew Voldemort knew where they were, their already ingrained senses of paranoia grew. Neither of them would admit it though it was growing increasingly obvious. Harry had stopped walking in the middle of the path and was hugging the wall, practically clutching at Snape's sleeve just to make sure he didn't up and vanish, and Snape had yet to shake him off.

After what seemed like forever to both of them, they saw a bright light that could only be the way out. They crept forward with painstaking slowness, well aware that it could be a trap.

"I'm going first," Snape grunted, staring down at Harry with a discontented expression.

Harry's expression darkened. "What if it's a trap?"

"Then you shall stay here out of harm's way."

Harry opened his mouth in shock. Snape really hadn't been kidding when he said he didn't want Harry to help if he got into any trouble. It wasn't that Harry had doubted him but it felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice over his head and a few cubes had got stuck in his shirt. His stomach flip-flopped as Snape gently pried his arm from Harry's hold.

Stealing himself, Snape forced himself off the wall and took a moment to gain his footing. When Snape didn't stumble or faint, he made his way toward the light, wand held tightly. He said a spell that Harry didn't quite hear before walking slowly back toward Harry.

"The Apparation barrier ends at the bottom of those stairs," Snape said, his relief evident in his voice. "Just in case, we need to Apparate together. Getting separated now would be disastrous. Are you strong enough to Disapparate the two of us?" he asked, measuring Harry in a glance.

Snape wasn't going to come right out and say that he couldn't Disapparate the two of them, that if he tried, he would probably splinch them both.

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding, happy that Snape was going to let him do something. "Where to?" he asked.

Snape thought for a moment, considering their options. His cover was already blown so he might as well just go home. Draco would have to be dealt with, but it didn't matter anymore.

"The village. You remember the house?" he asked, frowning.

"I remember the old lady well enough," he said with a light smile. Snape just stared at him, brow arched.

"Yes, I can get us back there," Harry said, scowling at Snape. Couldn't the man ever lighten up?

Snape nodded wearily. "As soon as we pass the barrier, do not wait. Apparate immediately," he said. Harry nodded and the two of them made their way to the staircase.

Peeking his head around the corner, Snape saw no one, but he could hear the sound of voices echoing down the staircase. He held his finger to his lips, and then beckoned Harry to join him. Together, they stepped onto the first step.

"Now," Snape hissed, just as the voices became silent. He heard a shout right before Harry wrapped his arms around him in a tight grip. A moment later, they were gone.


	12. Chapter 12

_**Co-written with Stormypup**_

**A/N: **Beta'd by Rakina

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

Harry managed to Apparate them to the drive of 7 Eredite Lane without splinching them, though his head hurt so badly from the effort that he was momentarily afraid he had splinched his brain.

Snape was leaning heavily against him, and with a quick look around, the two of them staggered to the house. Harry couldn't help but notice that Snape's hand was trembling when he removed the key from his pocket. Without saying a word or looking at him, Harry took the key and unlocked the door himself.

Harry made for the nearest sofa and Snape collapsed into it. Harry sat down next to him, his breathing labored. He knew he should get Snape to bed but at the moment he didn't have the energy. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the sofa.

A voice broke his reverie. "What did you do to him, Potter?" Harry's eyes flew open to find Draco's wand pointed at him.

Eyes wide, Harry looked between Draco and Snape. "Malfoy," Harry said, his mouth turning into an angry sneer.

"Leave him alone," Snape growled, opening his eyes to glare at Draco.

Malfoy's eyes widened in shock before narrowing into slits. His wand was still trained right between Harry's eyes, a curse on the tip of his tongue, when Harry suddenly lurched forward and threw up on the floor. It sloshed onto Malfoy's shoes.

Harry groaned holding his stomach with one arm and his forehead with the other as he breathed heavily through his nose. He didn't even have to look over at Snape to know that the man had his arm clenched to his stomach trying to stem the pain from the Mark. His scar was throbbing but the pain was manageable. It was obvious the scaly bastard knew that they had removed Hufflepuff's cup. Harry squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the bitter taste in his mouth, in favor of trying to clear his mind. He couldn't let Voldemort know where they were. He had already failed too many times and he didn't want to fail again.

"Five fuckin' minutes," Harry snarled, ignoring Malfoy's outraged expression. The prick deserved the disgust he felt.

Snape's body was taut as a wire, and the pain was excruciating. His body had been through too much in the last twenty-four hours and as hard as he fought it, the blackness finally overwhelmed his senses.

Harry barely had time to grab Snape before he fell off the couch, unconscious. "Help him," he growled at Malfoy, who was watching them, wide eyed.

Draco moved to the couch, grabbing Snape and positioning him back against the sofa. "What's the matter with him?" Draco asked, feeling scared now.

"Voldemort," Harry hissed.

Draco scrambled out of the room and immediately came back in with a bright blue potion.

"Tip his head back," he grunted, without looking at Harry.

Harry scowled but did it. He had no idea what else to do about it. Malfoy seemed to have this situation under better control than he could ever hope to. At this point it wouldn't even matter if he poisoned Snape. They were as good as dead if they so much as left the front door.

Draco was rubbing the vial over Snape's dried, cracking bottom lip trying to coax the unconscious man to open his mouth. Harry couldn't be sure but he swore Malfoy's arm was trembling as he did so.

"Give it here," Harry demanded, holding out his free hand. He gritted his teeth at the incredulous look the blond threw him. "Don't start," he spat, flexing his fingers and silently commanding him.

"Why should I, Potty?" Malfoy sneered, holding the potion away from Snape as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Because he needs to get better!" Harry shouted angrily, green eyes blazing. Malfoy raised an eyebrow and looked ready to say something else when a speculative gleam overtook him. Harry didn't like that look at all. "Malfoy," he said warningly.

"Since when do you give a damn about Snape, Potter?" Malfoy asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Malfoy, give me the potion or I swear to God what I did to you in the bathroom will seem tame," Harry said through clenched teeth, raising his wand and pointing it at Draco.

Draco's eyes widened at the tone in Harry's voice. He thrust the vial into Harry's hand and backed away.

Harry clenched the bottle tightly in his fist warring between hexing Malfoy anyway and the pressing worry for Snape. The older man's face, even unconscious, was twisted and pinched in pain and his hands were clenched into fists. Even in this state, Snape wasn't getting any rest.

Harry sighed softly and brought the vial carefully up to the man's lips rubbing it gently along the lower lip. He wasn't daft enough not to recognize a pain-relieving potion when one was handed to him. Madame Pomfrey had stuffed enough of them down his throat after Quidditch practices that he had actually become accustomed to their bitter aftertaste.

He kneeled next to Snape, and eventually gave up trying to give him the potion from that angle. He slunk off the couch to the floor and with as much grace as he could, maneuvered Snape's unconscious body around so he was lying down. Once again, he brought the bright blue potion to Snape's lips, willing him to open them, just a little. However, even in sleep Snape was a stubborn git.

"Come on, you great git, open up," he muttered in frustration, pressing the vial a bit harder against the man's bottom lip. The lip split open and began to bleed. Harry bowed his head in thought. What could he do now? He looked pensively at the small, thin vial in his hands and pressed his thumb over the top of it before tipping it. The freezing liquid hit the pad of his thumb and Harry righted the glass vessel before bringing his thumb off the top.

"What are you doing, Potter?"

"Malfoy, I suggest you remain quiet," Harry snapped aggressively, not even looking over his shoulder at the irate Slytherin.

He brought his thumb up tremblingly to Snape's face and rubbed the liquid across the man's bottom lip. He watched with avid fascination as Snape's tongue licked his lip and the potion off of it. Harry closed his eyes and sagged in relief. He blocked the top of the vial again and repeated the motion until the entire vial was empty. He sat back on his heels and let out a long breath. Now all he could do was wait.

As Harry leaned back against the couch, he was reminded of his own pain and wished he had another vial of the potion for himself. It would have to wait as well, because he was too tired to move and didn't want to jostle Snape anymore than he had already done. And he wasn't about to ask Malfoy for one.

Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head against the couch cushions, ignoring Draco altogether. His scar was still throbbing, but it wasn't the blinding pain that it had been earlier. Whatever fit Voldemort had thrown, he seemed to be easing up a bit.

Snape's breathing finally began to even out, and Harry found himself relaxing as Snape's body relaxed against him. If Ron could see him now, he'd probably laugh his fool head off. Or be ill. Hard to tell with Ron.

"What the hell happened?" Draco asked, but Harry continued to ignore him. He didn't have the energy to deal with Malfoy on top of everything else.

Harry could hear and feel the change in Snape's breathing as the man began to wake. He knew the moment Snape was fully conscious, because his whole body tensed. The next thing Harry knew, Snape's head was turning his direction and their eyes met.

Harry bit his lower lip, then offered Snape a weak smile, trying to temper the damned blush that was creeping up his neck and threatening to explode on his cheeks.

"Welcome back, sir," he murmured.

Snape blinked and stared at Harry for a long moment, his mind trying to sort through how he had ended up practically in Potter's lap.

"I don't suppose someone wants to tell me what is going on?" Draco asked irritably.

Snape startled and turned his head to face Draco. He suddenly felt like a fifth year caught snogging in the corridor, and hurried to stand. He swayed momentarily and sat heavily on the couch.

"What's he doing here?" Draco asked, scowling at Harry, who scowled right back.

"Shut it, Malfoy, as if it's any of your business," Harry snapped, cracking his knuckles unconsciously. God, he hated Malfoy. He hated his voice, he hated his hair and he sure as hell hated his attitude and he was half tempted to just silence him right then and there.

"It is my bloody business, Scarhead, I was here first."

"Mature, Malfoy; that was a wonderful comeback. With zingers like those, it's a wonder people still talk to you."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed into tiny slits and Harry could almost see his brain begin to smoke as it short-circuited and turned off due to his anger.

"Enough!" Snape growled, turning his glare on the two of them. Both Harry and Draco fell silent, but continued to look at each other with disgust.

"Potter, are you alright?" Snape asked, turning his gaze on Harry. The last thing he remembered was the excruciating pain, and Harry vomiting. At least that had been cleared away.

Harry nodded hesitantly, his head still throbbed but it was more than manageable and nothing that a nap and a cup of hot chocolate wouldn't cure. He glanced over at Malfoy and felt a flush of triumph rush through him at the disappointed expression on the blond's face; Malfoy looked like he'd sucked on a lemon.

"Yes." He noticed that the floor was clean and looked at Malfoy again with a speculative expression. Of course he had cleaned up the floor; the prat had to clean off his shoes and had just done the floor while he was at it.

"Potter, I need to speak with Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, and Harry couldn't help but notice that his voice didn't have its normal strength.

"Uh, sure. Where should I...?" Harry asked, trailing off.

"Kitchen is through there," Snape said, nodding toward the opposing entry way.

Harry nodded and got shakily to his feet. He walked to the kitchen and went through the cupboards until he found one with glasses in it. He got some water from the tap and drank it all down. He sat at the table, resting his head in his hands. Harry couldn't remember the last time he had been this exhausted. He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, Snape was standing over him, shaking him awake.

"M'wake," he slurred, looking up at Snape through blurred vision.

Snape gave him a look of disbelief. Potter looked anything but awake.

"We've still got to destroy the Horcrux," Snape said wearily.

Harry let his head drop to the table and groaned. "Do we have to?"

Snape slid into the chair across from Harry and buried his face in his hands, stringy black hair obscuring his features. "I think I'd rather sleep while the Dark Lord isn't focusing his wrath in my direction," he said humorlessly.

"It's not like he's likely to come here and find us, is it? A nap wouldn't get us killed, would it?"

"I don't know," Snape replied, his exhaustion making him open more than he otherwise would. "I'm so tired I can barely think straight," he said, frustrated. "He knows I've betrayed him," he added, thinking aloud. "He must know that we found a Horcrux, and most likely have located others as well. Which means he's probably gathering the remaining ones to him even now," Snape said, rubbing his face with his hands.

"If he's got the others, there's nothing we can do," Harry said, feeling hopeless. "Even if I do kill him, parts of his soul will still be out, waiting to come back to power."

Snape looked at Harry thoughtfully, an idea forming in his mind. "If the Dark Lord were to fall, there would be nothing to stop us from hunting down the remaining Horcruxes and destroying them, destroying what's left of him," Snape said, his voice taking on a note of excitement. "Once he is dead, the Death Eaters will fall apart; turn on each other to save themselves."

Harry sat up straighter as he began to catch what Snape was getting at.

"So we kill Voldemort first, then worry about the other Horcruxes?" Harry asked.

Snape was nodding slowly. "He could not distract either of us with pain if he were already dead."

"As dead as he'll get anyway," Harry added.

"But it could work. Right now, he's going to be concerned about the other Horcruxes, his focus will be on protecting them. He will expect us to go after them," Snape said, tapping a finger against his chin.

"But we'll be going after Voldemort himself?" Harry asked, both excited and nervous. "What if we fail? If he kills either of us, or both of us? He'll be alive and have his bloody Horcruxes ensuring he stays alive for Merlin knows how long."

Snape looked at Harry and their gazes locked. "If we fail, if you fail, we're all doomed anyway," he said quietly.

They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally coming to a decision, Harry sat up straight, his features set and determined. "So," he said, his voice taking on a hard edge. "When are we going to destroy the snake-faced bastard?"


	13. Chapter 13

_**Co-written with Stormypup**_

**Disclaimer: **A large part of the first chapter is taken straight from chapter 25 of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and belongs to J.K. Rowling, as does a good portion of chapter two. These have been modified by the authors to fit with the challenge. Chapter three onward was written solely by the authors using JKR's characters.

**A/N: **Beta'd by Rakina

**Chapter Thirteen**

Harry glared up at the dark shadow that fell across his face. He had been lying out in the Mid-August sun, something he had precious little time to do now. It had been two weeks since they had found Hufflepuff's cup and it was now stowed away in a cabinet in Snape's house under lock and key. No one was going to get to it unless they were betrayed and since Snape's secret keeper wasn't dead there was little chance of them being revealed.

It was the warmest it had been in a long time and Harry had wanted to take full advantage of it. So right after breakfast he had headed out into the tiny area of grass that Snape called a garden.

He shaded his face against the sun, and squinted up at the tall figure before him.

"Good morning," he greeted, sitting up and rolling his shoulders.

"It's time," Snape said, turning on his heel and walking back towards the house.

Harry sighed. Right. Snape had been teaching him spells he would never learn at Hogwarts, spells that were his only chance against Voldemort and his followers. Sometimes Draco was there, but more often than not, he and Snape were alone.

Harry got to his feet and with a last wistful view of the outdoors, he followed Snape inside to the room they had been using to train in. The walls were bare and the paper was brittle and peeling. Harry had yet to figure out what its original color had been. The ceiling was dotted with water spots, spots Harry had become quite familiar with as more often than not he ended up on his back, staring at that ceiling.

Wand in hand, he entered the room behind Snape and was immediately forced to throw up a protection spell as Snape began shooting various spells at him.

"Stop blocking, Potter!" Snape snarled, throwing a cutting hex at Harry's shield. Harry was thrown back by the impact but managed to keep the shield in place. They had been going at it for a good hour now and sweat was beading on his forehead and dripping down his nose. His glasses had slipped off and fallen to the floor about twenty minutes ago, the gentle tinkle of glass telling him he wouldn't be seeing anything even if he spent the few seconds to pick them up.

"It seems to be working just fine thanks," Harry said in a clipped tone, both his hands clenched around his wand in his attempt to keep the shield intact. He knew that the second Snape threw an Unforgivable at him the shield would fail. It happened each and every time.

Snape growled and cast the Cruciatus curse, forcing Harry to drop his shield and roll out of the way. He stayed still on the ground breathing heavily, his tee-shirt clinging to his back and stomach uncomfortably.

"Get up."

"No."

"Damn it, Potter! The Dark Lord will not allow you time to catch your breath! Get up!" he snarled, sending another hex Harry's way.

Harry dove to the side and rolled to his feet, sending a curse at Snape as he did so. It was perhaps the first time in two weeks that he had surprised Snape. His slicing hex had got through, slicing across Snape's side.

Harry's eyes widened at Snape's gasp. "Shit, are you okay?" he started to ask, but Snape was already casting another spell, forcing Harry to get his shields back up.

Twenty minutes later, Snape called a cease fire. Harry watched as the man stumbled into the wall clutching at his side.

"You are hurt," Harry stated, annoyed.

"Obviously," Snape said. "Thank you for pointing that out," Snape said, lifting up his shirt to examine the wound. His side was covered in blood and the slices in his skin were still dripping. "Well done," he said, looking at Harry with something resembling humor.

Harry blinked owlishly and went to Snape's side. He glanced up at the older man waiting for permission. His wand was held loosely in his fingers as he imagined gathering his magic inwards. This was a skill he had only just started to learn how to use, but it was becoming his favorite. Medi-wizardry was fairly hard to learn and even harder to teach, but Snape had insisted upon it. Until now, Harry had never really had a chance to try it on another person. He was normally the one who got cut up.

"Don't mess it up, Potter. I wouldn't want it to scar," he said sarcastically. He had more scars on his body than he cared to count. They were just one more reminder of his choices in life. As if the Dark Mark wasn't enough.

Harry nodded and closed his eyes. He waved his wand over the cut slowly, calculatingly, before pushing the bottled-up magic forward with the intent to heal. He could feel his magic funnel through to his hand and out into his wand, causing it to vibrate in distress. Harry's eyes flew open and locked with Snape's in shock and concern.

"Was it supposed to do that?" he asked, voice trembling.

"Ease up on the magic," Snape said. "The wound looks worse than it is and you're forcing too much magic into healing it. Pull back," he said, keeping his voice low. He was afraid if he raised his voice and startled the boy, he'd end up regretting the action.

Harry nodded, focusing solely on himself and the wound. It was already healed over and Harry didn't want to think of what could happen if the healing magic continued. His entire frame was trembling as he tried to pull back.

"Help," he murmured, his eyes squeezed tight. It was all he could do to continue to hold on to his wand.

Snape had closed his eyes when he felt the skin knitting together, feeling the warmth spreading across his skin. Harry's faint plea had his eyes opening in an instant.

He reached out and wrapped a hand around the hand Harry had clenched around his wand, steadying him. "It's done, Potter, let it go," he said, putting steel into his voice, but Harry couldn't seem to break the connection.

"Potter! Look at me!" Snape snapped, and Harry opened his eyes, locking with Snape in panic. "Let it go," Snape said, and though he said it quietly, the implied order was unmistakable.

"How?"

"Break the connection," Snape said, forcing the wand point away from his side. "On the count of three," he said, trying to give Harry something else to focus on. "One...two...three!" he said loudly.

Harry hissed as he finally managed to pull his magic back sharply, his wand fell from his limp fingers as a consequence and he slumped against Snape's side breathing heavily.

Snape supported Harry to the nearest wall and watched as he slid to the floor, pulling up his knees and resting his head against them.

"Had that ever happened before?" Snape asked, frowning.

"No," he croaked, grabbing the back of his head in frustration.

Snape looked at him, speculatively, the wheels in his mind turning. He had felt the raw power practically radiating off of Harry when he was being healed. He began to wonder if Potter had ever tapped into that particular magical store. And if not, just how deep did it run and how powerful was it?

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered into his knees.

"I think we're done for today," Snape said, nudging Harry with his foot. "Get up, Potter."

Harry leaned back against the wall and stared up at Snape, his eyes were red and puffy and if it weren't for the look on his face one would have thought he had been crying.

Snape frowned down at Harry. "I believe the wall is capable of holding itself up, Potter," he said, having reached his limit of coddling. "We'll work on your occlumency after we've eaten lunch."

Harry groaned and slammed his head against the wall. He heard Snape snort as he stood up shakily.

"You suck," he muttered, not even looking up at him.

"You wound me, Potter. Alas, my secret is out," he said, rolling his eyes as Harry steadied himself. When he was fairly certain the brat wasn't going to collapse he turned and began walking from the room. "I most definitely do suck," he said, turning his head long enough to smirk at Harry before he left the room.

Harry stared after him gaping. Did he really? Had Snape really just make a joke? Harry had to fight the grin that was overtaking his entire face. He followed after Snape with this new bit of knowledge. Although, if Snape had laughed, Harry would probably have to wash out his brain.

* * *

They ate a simple lunch of soup and sandwiches, and Harry knew better than to stuff himself. If he did, he'd just be wanting to retch by the time he and Snape were done. The look of the disgust he'd got from Snape the last time he had vomited was not a look he ever wanted to see again. 

"Have you had any visions?" Snape asked, as he always did over lunch.

"No, not today." Harry pushed his spoon around the soup bowl careful to not slosh any over the edge.

"I wish I knew what he was planning," Snape said, frustrated that he was stuck in a position of knowing absolutely nothing of the Dark Lord's plans. "Things have been relatively quiet, and that worries me," he said, staring into his soup bowl.

Outside of their little cocoon, the war was still waging against Voldemort and his assorted minions, but it was sporadic thus far. The longer they waited to move against Voldemort, the more concerned Snape became about missing something important.

"No new deaths in the _Prophet _today then?"

"No, and I'm cut off from all of my old contacts...for either side," Snape said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I think it's time you contact the Order and get what information out of them that you can," Snape said, looking at Harry from across the table.

Harry froze and his face paled. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"No, but I think it's inevitable at this point. We need information before we can do anything. I can't train you forever. Even you must realize that time is running out for all of us," Snape said, his dark eyes meeting Harry's across the table.

Harry nodded sullenly. "Whatever you want," he mumbled, breaking the stare.

"Had you only been this agreeable as a student," Snape said, arching his brow and smirking at Harry over his teacup.

"Shut it," Harry mumbled, mortified to note the blush creeping up his own neck.

Snape nearly snorted aloud as Harry began to flush. In the not so distant past an insult such as that would have had Potter throwing a fit. Now he just shrugged it off, or even smiled. It was disconcerting to say the least, but he was finding himself enjoying Potter's company.

The boy had been working hard, doing everything Snape asked of him. Oh, there was bitching and moaning, but he did as he was asked. They had at least one big blowout a day, but once they both vented, things continued on as usual. Snape was feeling almost...comfortable around him.

He hadn't the slightest idea that he had been staring at Harry until the boy cleared his throat.

Harry had to stifle the laughter at the stunned look that passed Snape's face before it cleared entirely. He wished he knew what was wrong with himself. Just a month or two ago, Snape staring at him would have made him want to retch but now he found he didn't mind it at all. There was no animosity in Snape's absent gaze, he was just pensive. Harry couldn't quite label the feeling he got from knowing Snape trusted him just enough to let his guard down. It seemed almost impossible in theory, but here he was trying to dissect just that. Snape never let his guard down, even when seriously injured, and here they were just eating a casual lunch.

And it wasn't like Snape was the only one staring. Harry had found himself stealing glances at Snape all week. He had come to expect him trudging down the stairs in the morning grouchy as hell and had learned how to prepare his tea just so. It was the little things that were pressing upon Harry's mind. How had he grown so accustomed to a man he would have sworn he hated just a few months back? Logically it could just be their forced time together, but now the idea of going to see the Order filled him with dread and he couldn't be sure if it was because they would smother him and lock him away or if it was because he would be leaving Snape here with Malfoy. Snape had been right though, they were effectively cut off from any true source of information by staying here and seeing how Snape couldn't leave the house with both sides on the look out for him, it really only left him.

A sick sense of dread curled into his stomach as he realized the enormity of what this meant. His going back would mean he had accepted the inevitable and he wasn't sure he'd be able to fight if Snape wasn't there to be his task master. He clenched his cold soup bowl in both hands and met Snape's stare head on.

As if reading his mind, Snape said, "You can handle the Order, Potter. You've been cooped up here with me for weeks and survived relatively unscathed; hexes, curses, jinxes and invasions of the mind notwithstanding," he said, shrugging as if that was all of little consequence.

"Yes, but what do I say to them?"

"Well, you're going to have to explain where you've been the last few weeks for one," Snape said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "I think, for the sake of keeping things simple and keeping them out of our hair, you need to tell them that the Horcruxes have been destroyed. All of them save Nagini," he said, looking at Harry intently, wondering if he would really lie to his friends.

Harry nodded in thought. "But would they believe me? I'm only one person and not even Dumbledore could survive destroying one."

"True," Snape said, tapping a finger on his lower lip. "I'd go with you, but I'm not sure I'd live to walk past the threshold. Perhaps not the Order then," Snape thought for a moment. "The Burrow," he finally said. "The Weasleys will know anything we need to know, and while they'll smother you," Snape said as he thought of Molly's mothering, "it may be less stressful then facing the whole Order alone."

"Especially Moody," Harry muttered with a dark tone. He drummed his fingers on the cold bowl and frowned. "All right. I'll go. Just...don't leave here."

Snape was surprised that Potter needed reassurance, from him of all people. "Where would I go?" he asked, looking at Harry as if he were daft. "Learn what you can then leave," he said, shrugging.

"Thank you, I will." Harry stretched back in his chair. "When do you want me to leave?"

"Tomorrow morning will be soon enough. You look like hell," Snape said, looking closely at Harry. There was bruising, and he had dark circles under his eyes. "They're going to think you've been abused," Snape added, narrowing his eyes.

Harry did laugh at that. "Mrs. Weasley is going to hit the roof when she sees me. It's bad enough she vaguely knows the details of my home life and already thinks I need coddling. If I look shitty enough for even you to mention it, I won't be allowed out of her sight for days."

"Better you than me," Snape said, raising his teacup in a mock toast. "You'll take Dreamless Sleep tonight, and I'll give you something to lighten the bruising. Perhaps Molly will let you leave her sight long enough to return."

Harry grinned and nodded, folding his arms across his chest. The thought of no nightmares that night sounded especially good at that moment. "Merlin I hope so, I love Mrs. Weasley, but she can be a little overbearing."

"She tried to mother me once," Snape said, a strange smile on his face. "She did not make that mistake twice," he said, his eyes meeting Harry's in amusement.

Harry's laughter echoed through the kitchen as he tried to imagine Mrs. Weasley forcing Snape to eat tons of food then make sure he got enough sleep. And to his own credit the sight of Snape smiling didn't make him feel the need to gouge out his eyeballs either.

"No Occlumency today I think," Snape said, wanting to research Harry's odd reaction to his magic today. "With my luck, you'd end up running into a wall and giving yourself a brain injury. Not that anyone would notice, but still," Snape said, getting to his feet.

"Git," Harry snickered, following suit, trying to ignore the content feeling he was getting from this conversation.

"Greasy git," Snape corrected as he turned to leave the room. "You're slipping, Potter," he shot back over his shoulder, heading for his meager library.

"Smarmy git is more correct," Harry called out after the older man, trying to fight the smile off his face. What the hell was he doing? Snape wasn't his friend. Snape wasn't anything. But he couldn't ignore the fact that even talking to Snape made him smile now. Shit, if he spent much more time with the man who knew what would happen.

"Potter."

Harry's smile vanished and he turned to face the other way out of the tiny kitchen. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I live here, I can go where I want," Draco said petulantly. Snape was always sending him away, telling him to go and read or make a potion that usually ended up inside Potter.

Malfoy was not happy. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He didn't feel any sympathy for the blond but he certainly pitied him and he was certain if Malfoy knew that he'd hate him more for it.

"Sorry," he said without much feeling behind it.

"I don't need your 'sorry', Potter," Draco spat, insulted. "Just stay out of my way," he warned, brushing past Harry on the way to find something to eat. Where's a damned house elf when you need one?

Harry watched him and rolled his eyes. It was obvious that Malfoy was as uncomfortable in this kitchen as Harry would be in the Slytherin common room.

"Or you'll do what?" he asked. Really, how could he resist this chance to bait Malfoy?

"Turn you over to the Dark Lord," Draco said spitefully. He was bluffing, but if it would make Potter squirm, so much the better.

"And just how do you propose to get me there when you don't even have your wand anymore?"

Draco whirled on Harry, glaring. "I'm not completely helpless, Potter and it would be best if you remember that," Draco hissed. "I have friends in high places these days."

"And who might those be, Mister Malfoy?" Snape asked walking into the kitchen, book in hand.

Draco spun on his heels, facing Snape, eyes wide.

"He was threatening me!" Draco said, pointing at Harry.

Snape shook his head then pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do not act like a first year, Draco. It is beneath you," he added, forcing Draco to meet his gaze. "Do not forget out little chat, Draco, and remember that Potter is under my protection. Any harm that comes to him will be revisited upon you ten-fold," Snape said, his voice dark and dangerous.

"But sir -"

"No!" Snape snapped. "This is over. Now," Snape said, looking between the two boys who were still glaring at one another. He sighed. "Go and do something," he said, waving a hand in the air. He filled his teacup and exited the room, leaving the two young men to sort it out.

Draco's lip curled in disdain. "Stay out of my way," he said, pushing past Harry and going to his room.

"Gladly," Harry muttered at Draco's retreating back.

At something of a loss, as his afternoon was suddenly free, Harry made his way to the small room full of books. Snape had called it a library, but there weren't that many books. There was a large stack on the desk and a bookshelf full of obviously old texts.

Bored, Harry began scanning titles, hoping to find something remotely interesting, or perhaps a spellbook. Maybe he could surprise Snape the next time they dueled. A title caught his eye and curious, he pulled the book down from the shelf. It was entitled, _The Wizard's Guide to Wizards. _Shrugging, he carried the book to the one uncomfortable chair, and sat down. He knew if Snape showed up, he'd have to vacate the chair. But he didn't mind. If the book was at all interesting, he planned to take it out in the sun to read.

Leaning back in the chair and tossing one leg over the armrest, he settled the book on his lap and opened it to a random page. With a gasp, he shut it just as quickly, his eyes widening. This was no a book about famous wizards.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry took a deep breath and opened the book again at random. This time, there were only words, no moving pictures of...well no moving pictures for which he was grateful. He scanned over the text.

"…_and__ with the proper angle, as illustrated on page 33, one can see the advantages of this position. The wizard on top is able to penetrate his partner in a way to bring about maximum pleasure. As the penis begins to brush against the prostate..." _

Harry slammed the book shut, and looked around the room feeling guilty. Snape had sex books? And not just any sex books, but books about two men...well, doing it? His face was flushed and he could feel the blush to the tips of his ears. He had to put it back before Snape realized he had been looking at it. The man would probably kill him.

This idea warred with his desire to see what exactly was illustrated on page 33. They talked about sex in the dormitories of course; it was bound to happen in a room full of hormonal teens. But they didn't talk about this. Harry was fairly certain that Dean was gay, but never gave it much thought. He was straight and that's all there was to it. It was the stress of last year that had made him hold back on having anything remotely resembling sex with Ginny. His lack of desire in that department was just the result of his hellish sixth year.

Glancing around the room, Harry thumbed through the pages, paying more attention the pictures than he would ever admit, until he came to page 33. There was a man on his knees, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the bed. He turned his head and gave Harry a wink. Harry gave a weak smile, his blush overtaking him once again. The other was a well-toned man kneeling behind the first, his hands on the other man's hips as he began to thrust in and out of the first man. He wanted to close the book. He needed to close the book, but the looks on the faces of the two men had him enthralled. It was a look nothing short of bliss. The man on top had his head thrown back, and the man on bottom was beginning to push back against every thrust in earnest.

Harry wanted to close the book, but he also wanted to see how it ended, to see how their faces looked at the moment of climax. He was fascinated. The moment he realized that he was becoming aroused by it all, he slammed the book shut, and stared blankly ahead.

"Too much for your delicate sensibilities, Potter?"

Harry nearly fell out of the chair. Snape was leaning against the doorjamb, tea in one hand, which he was calmly sipping, and a book in the other.

"How long have you been there?" Harry asked, irritated to hear his voice had a slight tremor to it. He looked down to see his hands were shaking as well.

"Long enough it seems," Snape said, studying Harry through lowered lashes. The boy was flushed, his eyes bright. Something had certainly affected him.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," Snape said, coming into the room and trading the book in his hand for one on the desk, "though you are in my library," he pointed out. "No matter. I shall be in my room, try not to blow anything up or kill Malfoy," he said smirking at Harry. He let his eyes travel to the book on the floor at Harry's feet, then back up to his eyes. He cocked his head to the side and studied Harry for a moment.

"Return it to the shelf when you have finished," was all that he said before leaving the room.

Harry stared at the vacant doorframe before picking up the book with trembling fingers. Snape hadn't even yelled at him for touching his property. It was as if the man hadn't cared at all. He moved across the room and replaced the book where he found it, trying to brush off the lingering arousal. It meant nothing other than the fact that he hadn't had a good wank in a long time and anything would have aroused him.

He was still trying to reason with himself as he crawled into bed early that night after a very awkward dinner. Tomorrow morning he was off to the Weasley's and he had to be ready to go back to the real world.


	14. Chapter 14

**Co-written with Stormypup**

Beta'd by Rakina

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

Harry woke up before dawn, disoriented with sticky sheets. He groaned and ran a hand down his face. There were no house elves here to fix this. He would have to wash these sheets himself before Snape noticed.

He stood up, bare feet hitting cold wooden paneling. It took little effort to tug the sheets off the bed and ball them up in his arms. He half contemplated spelling them clean, but then they'd be stiff at night. He sighed, trudging out of the room as stealthily as one could at 4:30 in the morning with a pile of bed sheets.

The bathroom light was too bright when he turned it on and it took him a moment to adjust to the bright glare. He tossed the sheets in the bathtub with a great sigh. If Snape had only allowed one house elf, or even brought a bloody washing machine. But no, of course not. He rolled up his sleeves as he turned on the tap and waited for the tub to fill.

Five minutes later, he was wringing the water from the sheets, getting most of it out before attempting a drying spell. Once they were dry, he returned to his room and remade the bed. He lay down and attempted to go back to sleep, but it was too late. He was wide awake and his mind was racing. He had to go back to the real world today, and he realized he wanted to do anything but.

It wasn't like he enjoyed spending all his time with Snape, but he had learned more about defense in the past two weeks than he had in all his time at Hogwarts. He still wasn't prepared to face Voldemort, but he didn't feel so helplessly terrified anymore. Just resigned.

"Potter," came a thick, tired-sounding voice from the doorway. Harry looked over and sighed. Snape was standing there, hair mussed up (if he had the energy he might have smiled at that) looking surlier than normal.

"I'm up," Harry grumbled, throwing off the sheets to reveal the fact that he was fully dressed.

Snape nodded and left the room, going to the kitchen and putting on tea. He hadn't slept well at all, there were too many worries on his mind. He was worried about Potter's safety going back into the wizarding world. And he was having his doubts about letting the boy go alone, but he couldn't go with him, that would just cause more problems.

He leaned against the counter with a closed expression. He was just going to have to trust that the boy would stay out of trouble. Snape had to snort at the thought. The boy was walking trouble.

Harry trudged down the hall and entered the kitchen with a sullen expression. He plunked down on a chair at the table and glared at the hardwood top. He barely glanced up when a piping hot cup of tea was placed in front of him. He muttered a brief thanks and took a sip of it.

"You must remember that even the Burrow is not entirely safe. You must stay alert at all times," Snape said by way of greeting. "I have no idea if it is being watched."

Harry nodded. "Right, watch my back." He sighed, clutching the mug. "What time am I to go?"

"The sooner the better. If anyone is watching the house, dawn is the best time to go. They're tired and less alert," Snape replied, sipping his tea. He was feeling on edge about the whole thing and not for the first time he considered using Polyjuice to accompany Harry, but he knew that wasn't wise.

Harry nodded again and took a deep sip of his tea. "So I suppose that was the nice way of saying 'Go now, you utter moron'?"

"I would have said 'idiot'," Snape said, keeping his voice even so as not to betray his own nervousness. "If there is trouble, return immediately. Do not play the hero," he reminded Harry firmly.

Harry cheered up considerably at that. Snape wasn't being mean to him, which meant he'd taken the joke well. A small part of him wished Snape would have snapped at him so he wouldn't have to leave feeling worried and nervous all at once.

"Do I Floo in or did you make me a Portkey?"

Pointing his wand at Harry, Snape cast a simple glamour on the boy, hiding his various bruises and the dark circles under his eyes. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small thimble and held it up. "Best have your wand out and a protection spell on your lips," Snape said.

Harry reached out his hand and Snape placed the thimble inside, wrapping Harry's fingers around it. "I'm afraid this will dump you in the middle of Molly's living room." He removed his hand from Harry's and the last thing Harry saw, before the Portkey kicked in, was Snape smirking.

Once Harry was away, the smirk left Snape's face. He got to his feet and began pacing the small kitchen, rubbing his brow with his fingers.

This had the potential to blow up in his face, but it was a risk he had to take. Snape loved control, and at the moment, he felt like he had none at all. So much lay with Potter and it drove Snape mad.

The boy wasn't as inept as Snape once believed, and that was encouraging. Harry was actually quite good at defense and had picked up the new spells Snape had taught him rather quickly. He still had a problem being silent when casting, but that was a minor detail.

The last few days had been particularly exhausting. Snape made Harry Apparate to various places around the room, getting him used to moving and using spells as he moved. Had anyone been paying attention to their little hideaway, they would have heard a series of cracks as the two of them Apparated and cursed one another.

Snape had actually found the training sessions exhilarating. What should have been a chore for him, had actually become almost...fun. Despite what people thought and said about him, he did enjoy teaching, he just didn't enjoy teaching idiots like Longbottom.

The better Potter did, the more relaxed around him Snape became. Harry had grudgingly earned Snape's respect, which was not an easy thing to do. Snape rolled his eyes when he realized Dumbledore would be pleased. He probably had it planned all along the manipulative old bastard.

Snape sighed and ran a hand through his stringy hair. Whatever happened with Potter and the Weasleys was out of his hands now and worrying himself sick about it would do neither of them any good.

Deciding to make use of his time, Snape planned on returning to his research. He'd yet to find a reason for Harry's surge in power when he was healing Snape's side, and it was nagging at him. If he still came up with nothing today, he was going to test Potter in other ways. Being able to harness that raw power could only be a benefit in Harry's upcoming battle with Voldemort.

He'd best get started before Draco awoke and began his daily tirade of how miserable his life was. Selfish prat.

* * *

Harry landed in an undignified heap on the living room floor.

"Greasy bastard," he mumbled with false annoyance. He glanced around the inviting room wondering what time the Weasleys were going to be up and awake when he heard loud talking coming from the kitchen. Harry pocketed the thimble and headed towards the kitchen. He stepped inside to see that all the Weasley children and Hermione were gathered around the table, except for Charlie, even Bill and Fleur were there.

"Harry!"

Harry froze. His eyes went wide with shock as eight faces peered at him with excitement and disbelief.

"Hullo everyone," he said, shaking off his surprise.

Mrs. Weasley was upon him in an instant, wrapping him a hug before looking him over critically, making the fussing noises he had grown accustomed to. Ron nearly knocked his chair over getting to his feet. "Where the hell ya been mate?" he asked, looking a bit goggled-eyed.

That started a torrent of questions from everyone, and Harry began to feel a bit panicky and overwhelmed. Thankfully, Mr. Weasley put an end to all the questioning with a loud shout for everyone to shut up.

Harry gave him a grateful smile.

"I'm sorry," he said, once everyone had sat back down. "Really, I just… I needed to do something on my own. I couldn't just stay at the Dursleys' anymore."

"You know you're always welcome here, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead. "We were so worried."

"I didn't mean for you to worry, honestly, but I...I just had some things I needed to take care of," he said, lamely.

"Come on, Harry," Fred said, grinning.

"Have some food," George said, pulling back a chair.

"Ron doesn't need to eat," Fred added.

"He's getting a bit thick around the middle," George said.

"Don't ya think?" they both asked, grinning.

Harry laughed and sat down in the chair George pulled out and nudged him with his elbow. This was something he missed, but something was needling him in the back of his mind and one look at the Weasleys' clock told him what it was. Despite the fact that it wasn't telling time it did remind him of one very important thing.

"School starts today," Ginny said quietly and Harry's eyes met hers across the table.

"Oh, right," he said, grabbing a biscuit. He had not given school a second thought since Dumbledore's funeral.

"You're going back aren't you?" Ron asked, and Harry could tell by Ron's tone of voice that he wasn't particularly happy with Harry at the moment.

Harry swallowed his bite of food and stared around at the expectant faces.

"Ron, I-"

"Right," Ron said, his face darkening. "You're just going to go off on your own to save the bloody world while the rest of us sit in class, listening to lectures that won't mean a damn thing with You-Know-Who still alive!"

"Ronald Weasley!" Molly said, cuffing Ron's head.

"It's true!" Ron said, motioning toward Harry. "Look at him. You're not here to ask for help, are you, Harry?" Ron said, getting his answer from Harry's nervous shifting in his seat.

"No," Harry finally said so softly that even Fred and George almost missed it and they were right beside him. "Not from you. I already have someone helping me."

"Who?' Fred and George echoed.

Harry shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he said, beginning to feel frustrated. "Look, Mr. Weasley, can I talk to you a moment," he said, looking at Arthur. "Alone," he added, his eyes darting around the table. This was turning into a disaster and he realized the sooner he found out what he needed to know, the sooner he could escape.

Arthur nodded hesitantly and gestured for Harry to follow him into the living room. When it looked like the rest of the Weasley clan was going to follow as well, Harry lost it.

"What part of alone don't you lot understand?" he snapped, feeling a tension headache that he usually only related to his dealings with Malfoy.

Ron began to argue, but Arthur cut him off. "That's enough. You lot go and finish your breakfast. We have to leave for Kings Cross soon. Molly," he said, motioning to the rest of them.

"Come on," Molly said, shooing the rest of them out despite their moans of protest.

Once the door had closed behind them, Arthur put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, are you really alright?"

Harry nodded, covering his face with his hand. "I really shouldn't have done that," he muttered with despair.

Mr. Weasley smiled faintly. "They'll get over it."

Harry nodded and forced a smile onto his face. "I'm fine Mr. Weasley, really." He hoped that sounded convincing anyway. It wasn't too hard to fool the Weasley patriarch, but really, how would he explain voluntarily allowing Snape to hex him on a daily basis? It was best to leave well enough alone. There was also the little thing of Snape's glamour on him – he had no idea how long it would last. This wouldn't matter normally, but it looked like it was going to be a very long morning.

Harry sat on the sofa and Arthur sat next to him. "Can you tell me what's going on?" Arthur asked. "The Order members have been beside themselves since you disappeared." Harry could hear the disappointment underlying Mr. Weasley's words.

Harry put his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands for a moment before looking at Arthur again. "I'm sorry, I really am, but...Mr. Weasley I'm doing what Professor Dumbledore asked me to do before he died."

"The Horcruxes?" Arthur asked. "Ron told us --"

"Well he shouldn't have!" Harry snapped, cutting him off, then blushing. "Sorry. This is something I have to do, Mr. Weasley."

"You don't have to do it alone, Harry."

"I'm not; doing it alone that is."

"Harry, you must understand, that nobody in the Order knows where you are, or who is helping you," Arthur said, trying to reason with him.

"All you need to know is that I'm doing exactly what Dumbledore told me to do," Harry said firmly.

Arthur sighed. "You won't tell us who then?"

Harry shook his head and met Arthur's eyes determinedly. He knew Mr. Weasley would concede to him, because Mr. Weasley loved him to a certain degree and respected him as well. That was the one thing he had over all the other members of the Order. Love for Harry and a trust he put in him.

"I'm safe, if that makes you feel any less worried," he added with a helpless shrug.

Mr. Weasley smiled, though Harry could still see the sadness in his eyes. "Tell me what you need, Harry," he said, squeezing Harry's shoulder.

Harry let out a relieved sigh. "Mostly, we need information. We can't exactly go out in the wizarding world without drawing attention to ourselves and the Prophet is pretty much worthless for reliable information."

A small smirk bloomed on Mr. Weasley's face at that comment before it died.

"Are you certain you want to know, Harry?"

"Yes, please, Mr. Weasley you're the only one I could ask."

"Well," Arthur took a deep breath. "The last two weeks has been rather quiet, which has us all a little worried."

"I think that's probably my fault," Harry admitted, fighting a smile. "I found one Horcrux about two weeks ago. Unfortunately, he just about caught us, but we got it out of there."

Mr. Weasley looked at him worriedly. "Which ones Harry? Which ones have you destroyed?"

Harry stared at his hands, the prepared answer on his tongue. He was supposed to lie. But how could he? It went against everything he had grown up to know. But, the truth could be more harmful now than fiction. It gnawed at Harry's insides as he looked up at Mr. Weasley, knowing that he was about to lead him astray.

"All of them. Save Nagini."

It was surprisingly easier to say than he would have thought, and he sent a silent thank you to the sky that it had rolled off his tongue like it had. Mr. Weasley's eyebrows shot up on his forehead.

"Harry, that's wonderful!" Arthur cried. "This changes everything for our side, you realize?"

The guilt hit him at Mr. Weasley's response. Arthur was so happy and it was all just a lie.

"So, you see, I need to know where things stand for our side. Voldemort won't stay distracted for long," Harry told him, trying to change the subject away from the Horcruxes and his lies.

"We've been trying to obtain information from outside sources, but without Snape we have no real connection or knowledge of Death Eater movements."

Harry nodded, trying not to flinch at the harsh tone Arthur's voice took on when he said Snape's name. It just served to remind him how easily people believed their government. He knew Arthur meant no harm, but it still stung to hear Snape's name flung about so caustically.

Harry thought about something Snape had said to him. "Mr. Weasley, do you think there could be a spy. In the Order?"

Arthur frowned. "No, no I don't believe so. I mean, it's not impossible, but I think Moody would have ferreted them out by now if there were. Why, have you heard something?"

"Well, something strange happened, and I was just wondering if you trusted everyone in the Order."

Arthur furrowed his brow in thought, his expression becoming dark. "Harry, I don't know how you came to this conclusion, but the Order doesn't allow just anyone to join our ranks. Every person has to prove their loyalty in their own personal way."

Harry nodded, not sure what else to say. He had no proof and he couldn't explain to Arthur how the question came to mind.

There was a knocking on the door and Molly popped her head inside. "I'm sorry Harry," she apologized, smiling at Harry. "Arthur, we've got to leave soon or the kids will miss the train."

"Be right there, Molly," Arthur replied, before returning his attention to Harry. "I don't suppose I can convince you to stay?"

Harry smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, but I've got to see this through. For Dumbledore." He felt like a manipulator, using Dumbledore's name as though it was a free pass to whatever he wanted. But it worked, and Arthur nodded.

"I know I haven't really answered your question, but there's really not much to tell," Arthur said, getting to his feet. "I hate to say it, but the Order is in the dark itself right now since Snape, and well, information doesn't come so easily now," he finished, his voice tight.

Harry nodded and on impulse gave the red-haired man a tight hug.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley. I promise I'll owl you in a few days."

"Won't you say goodbye to everyone?" he asked, eyes hopeful.

Harry swallowed hard and shook his head. "Ron will still be angry, and Ginny will still be hurt no matter what I do, so I think it's best if I just go. Tell them...tell them I'm sorry." And he was. He didn't want to keep secrets and ignore his friends, but he had no choice right now.

Arthur seemed to understand, and he looked at Harry and nodded. "You be careful, Harry," he said, taking on a paternal tone. "Don't get in over your head."

"Little late for that," Harry joked, smiling. "Thanks again, Mr. Weasley."

"Anytime, Harry." Arthur ruffled Harry's hair with a warm smile before going back to the kitchen where some sort of war was being waged. Harry fought with himself before pulling his wand out of his jeans pocket and exited the house into the garden.

He needed to report back to Snape with his scary lack of information. This was bad. The Order was as informed as they were. It left a nasty taste in his mouth. Something big was going to happen and Harry wasn't sure if he was going to like the outcome.

With a loud pop, he Apparated right out of the Weasleys' garden.

* * *

Harry walked up the lane to the small house and pointed his wand at the front door, using the spell Snape had taught him to get past the wards.

Once inside, he was met by Snape's wand tip pointing between his eyes. "What is the name of your Aunt Marge's vile dog?"

"Ripper," Harry answered, rolling his eyes.

Snape nodded and lowered his wand. "Well?" he asked, walking back towards the kitchen and his tea.

"They know about as much as us, which is nothing," Harry said, figuring he would get the bad news out of the way right off.

"Potter," Snape threatened, his voice rumbling lower than thunder.

"Snape," Harry mocked, rolling his eyes and flung himself down in the chair he had vacated that morning.

"The Order doesn't have a clue what's going on now that you're not there to spy for them," Harry said, resting his forehead on the table for a moment, remembering Mr. Weasley's tone when he said Snape's name.

He finally looked up at Snape again. "Though, apparently about two weeks ago, things got very quiet. I kind of figured that was our doing, which is good because he's distracted now, right?"

Snape nodded, but said nothing, frowning into his tea.

"Sir?" Harry questioned after a long moment. When Snape finally looked up at him Harry found the table incredibly interesting. "I also brought up the possibility of a spy in the order's ranks."

Snape arched his brow in curiosity. "And I assume they denied the possibility, because everyone is so loyal and trustworthy."

Harry scowled and nodded. "It's hard to believe they're so trusting after everything that's happened."

Snape snorted, not finding hard to believe at all. He looked Harry over carefully then nodded. "Defense exercises, one hour. Unless you wish to read?" he said lightly, hiding his smirk in his tea.

"No, sir," Harry shook his head. "Unless this is your perverse way of telling me you wish to cancel today's lessons."

"Perverse?" Snape said, arching his brow and giving Harry a pointed look until the boy blushed. "One hour, Potter!" he stated, rising to his feet. When he reached the doorway he stopped. He didn't turn around but said, "You may call me Severus," and then left the room.

Snape had no real explanation for the changes in his behavior, though he had some ideas. Despite everything that was going on, and the daunting task ahead of him, Snape felt...free. He had no master save himself. Dumbledore had been every bit as demanding as the Dark Lord. And though he missed Dumbledore terribly, he also recognized what it meant for him.

Freedom.

Were he to choose, he could walk away from this whole Horcrux mess and everything that went along with it. He wouldn't, he would see it through, but just knowing the option was there added to the sense of freedom.

By all rights, he should make Potter continue calling him 'Sir', or 'Professor', but as he had no real authority over the brat there was no reason for it. And he found he didn't need to hear it from him. Harry had proven his worth and Snape grudgingly gave Harry his respect.

Of course, he'd never come right out and say it. Allowing Potter to use his given name should tell the brat all he needed know.


	15. Chapter 15

**Co****-written with Stormypup**

Beta'd by Rakina

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

Snape looked at the headline of the Daily Prophet and sneered.

_Where Is Harry Potter?  
Is the Boy Who Lived dead? _

Snape quickly scanned the article before tossing it onto the table, shaking his head.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked, his hair was all askew and he was still half asleep. He walked to the stove and poured himself a cup of tea.

"As you have not been seen in public for some time, the Prophet is beginning to question if you are even alive," Snape said, smirking.

Harry frowned. "Is that good or bad?" he asked.

Snape shrugged. "The Dark Lord knows that you live, and that is all that concerns us. Arthur Weasley confirmed that he had been in contact with you, but the Prophet will sell more papers if they announce your possible demise. Weasley's comment is at the bottom of the column on the sixth page."

Harry sat at the table across from Snape. "The people that care about me know I'm ok," he said, blowing on his tea before sipping it. "What's the plan for today?" he asked.

Snape cocked his head to the side and looked at Harry. "Today, we'll be experimenting."

Harry scowled. "That always turns out to be painful for me."

Snape couldn't help but smirk. "This time it will be you doing the damage."

Harry straightened in his chair. They'd been so focused on defense and he was more than ready to learn a more effective offense.

"When do we start?"

"You have thirty minutes to wake yourself up. I'll be in the usual place," Snape said, and a very disconcerting smirk accompanied his remark.

Harry nodded, suddenly feeling nervous.

Twenty minutes later, Harry entered the room where they had their daily practice session. Snape was in the corner of the room, bent over something.

"You're early," Snape said, not bothering to turn around.

Harry shrugged. "When I'm late I get hexed," he said, looking curiously at Snape, trying to see around him. "What's that?" he asked, walking toward the bent man.

Snape straightened and Harry could see a small cage full of rats sitting on the floor. Harry attempted to arch his brow to imitate Snape's normal questioning look, but the look on Snape's face told him it wasn't working.

"Rats?"

"Your powers of observation astound me."

Harry rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. "What are we going to use them for?"

"To test your resolve."

Harry watched as Snape bent down again and opened the crate. Snape straightened up holding a struggling rat in two hands. Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste at the rodent.

"Test it how?"

"I told you, Potter, this time you will be the one doing the damage, I just prefer that that damage is not done to me."

"Harry."

"What?" Snape stared at Harry with confusion.

Harry tugged on the edge of his work out shirt with an embarrassed expression. "Call me Harry. Every time you say Potter I can't help but think you're seeing my dad."

Snape frowned. In truth, he couldn't remember the last time he had associated Harry with James. Potter was just...Potter.

"You're quite mistaken," Snape said.

Harry began to protest, but Snape held up his hand. "Now is not the time, Potter," he said, his voice making it clear that the topic was closed.

Harry sighed and frowned.

"Now watch," Snape instructed, ignoring Harry's petulant stance. He withdrew his wand and put the squirming rat on the floor. Harry knew that even if it tried to escape it wouldn't get anywhere. He shifted uncomfortably as Snape raised his wand and pointed it towards the frantic rodent.

"_Mentis Incendia_!"

The rat shrieked. The sound echoed through the training room and drilled into Harry's head.  
After a few moments of the sound, Harry grabbed Snape's arm. "Stop!" he said, watching the rat writhe on the floor, its screeching pitiful.

Snape turned his head to look at Harry, but he did not raise his wand, and the rat continued shrieking.

"Please!" Harry pulled at Snape's arm again. "Are you trying to kill it?!"

Snape turned his attention back to the rat, watching it critically. "Its brain feels as though it is on fire. It is not, of course, but that matters little, don't you think?" he said, cocking his head to the side, watching as the rat's paws scrabbled against the floor.

"You're torturing it!" Harry cried, horrified.

Snape looked at Harry, his face grim. "And so will you," he said, his dark eyes boring into Harry's.

Harry's eyes widened. "Me?" he squeaked.

Snape raised his wand, but the rat continued to twitch on the floor. He pulled a small vial from his pocket and forced a few drops into the rat's mouth, and it ceased moving. Harry was surprised to see the gentle way Snape picked it up and carried it to a box and placed it inside.

When Snape turned his attention back to Harry, his eyes were flashing with something Harry didn't recognize. "You will do what is necessary, Mr. Potter, no matter how distasteful you may find it," he said, his voice firm.

Harry swallowed hard. He had known on some base level that he would have to learn things like this, but knowing it on a base level and actually having to deal with it were two completely different things.

Snape resisted the urge to sigh. Instead, he straightened and brought himself up to full height. "Get out your wand," he said, walking to the cage and pulling out another rat.

Harry did so, shaking. He held it out in front of him with reluctance as he waited for Snape to set the rat on the ground.

"_Mentis Incendia_," Snape repeated, looking at Harry, the rat squirming in his hands.

Harry nodded. "_Mentis Incendia_," he repeated, and Snape nodded at his pronunciation. He bent down and released the rat on the ground before stepping back.

Harry tracked the rat's movements for a moment before yelling out the curse and for a brief shining moment he thought he had failed.

And then the rat screamed.

Harry jerked his wand backwards almost dropping it. He stepped back, shaking his head. "I can't," he said, looking at Snape in a panic.

Snape grabbed Harry's wand hand and steadied it. "You will," he growled. "Again," he said, meeting Harry's eyes for a long moment before stepping back.

Harry turned his head away from the huddled ball of fur on the ground and cast the curse again, squeezing his eyes shut against the sight.

"Open your eyes," Snape ordered.

"No," Harry ground out.

Snape pointed his wand at Harry and cast a stinging hex across his ribs.

Harry yelped and his eyes shot open. He glared at Snape accusingly and held his chest protectively.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Open your eyes," Snape said, scowling. He bent down and took the still squealing rat and placed two drops of the potion into its mouth. It stilled immediately.

"You are doing them no favors by wasting time, Potter," he said, setting the rat carefully into the box before going to the cage and selecting another and turning to face Harry. "You can't honestly expect to walk into battle, only to close your eyes when things get ugly. You will go into this with your eyes wide open."

"I'm going to die anyway, why not make it easier?" Harry muttered, but opened his eyes. He met Snape's eyes with an irritated expression.

"You want me to try it again?"

Snape was scowling. "The odds are we'll both be dead, but we'll damn well finish off the Dark Lord first," he said, his voice hard. He set the rat on the floor and watched it scurry about.

"Again," Snape said, stepping back.

Harry steeled himself, squinting at the rodent, picturing it with a silver paw instead of a regular one. It helped. Anger coursed through him and a small snarl escaped his lips before he uttered the curse.

"_Mentis Incendia_!"

The rat started shrieking and Harry's hand began to tremble again, but he held the curse. He couldn't let this affect him. It was just a rodent, just a rat, one less wouldn't hurt the world.

Snape saw when Harry's resolve kicked in, and nodded his head in approval. He made Harry hold it the curse for a bit longer before stepping in.

"Enough," he said, and waited until Harry let up on the curse. He went to the rat and dripped the potion into its mouth, and set it in the box with the others before going to the cage and retrieving another one.

He set it on the ground and stepped back, nodding at Harry.

Harry nodded shortly, before casting the hex again. This time when the rat started shrieking it only resulted in him flinching slightly. He saw the approving nod he got from Snape and felt sick with himself. What was he doing? This wasn't him. He broke the curse before Snape could step in and stepped back.

"What are you doing, Potter?"

"I am not doing this again," he said with quiet conviction. He saw Snape open his mouth to argue. "I'll use it if needed, but not before then."

He squared his shoulders and faced Snape with an expectant expression.

Snape looked at Harry thoughtfully before nodding. "All right," he said turning to attend to the rat. He knelt as if he were going to give the rat a potion, but instead, whirled around on his knee and cast a hex at Harry.

Harry's eyes widened as he saw the curse hurtling towards him and managed to dodge it before it hit him. He heard it slam into the wall behind his head, before he pulled out his own wand. He cast a quick stinging hex in retaliation before casting a shield around him.

A long time later, when both men were panting and sweating, Snape finally called a halt to their duel. The two men leaned against the nearest wall and slid down to the floor, trying to catch their breath.

Snape finally raised his head and looked at Harry wearily. "You did well today, Potter," he said approvingly.

Harry couldn't muster up the urge to glare and instead tipped his head backwards, hitting the wall behind him.

"Thank you," he muttered bitterly.

"We'll be making our move soon," he said, watching Harry carefully to judge his reaction. He honestly wasn't at all sure that Potter was prepared, but he would never let the boy know that. He had to go in confident, or they were dead before they started.

Harry nodded idly, still breathing heavily. He couldn't help but think Snape was hiding something from him. Something important… but perhaps not. Harry's mind was in a whirlwind of thoughts each one less significant than the last, but each wanting his attention for various reasons. And perhaps if he were more lucid he would have realized the fact that thinking about thoughts was questionable in and of itself.

"How soon is 'soon'?" he finally asked.

Snape sighed. "We've got to set things in motion, perhaps tomorrow," he said, tapping a finger against his lips. "I think it's time we start using your...notoriety with the press to our advantage."

Harry snorted and finally looked at Snape with an amused expression. "The Order won't be happy," he pointed out.

Snape shrugged. "They have their duties, and you have yours," he said, looking intently at Harry. He had to wonder if Potter had drastically changed over the last month, or if he was just seeing him as he never had before. As a fairly competent young man who was shouldering a huge responsibility better than most others his age would be capable of doing.

"Hm, we can't go into this without their backing though," Harry stated in a matter of fact tone. He offered Snape a wan smile, wishing he knew what Snape was thinking looking at him like that. It sent tendrils of...what? He couldn't put a finger on what Snape's intense gaze was making him feel. But it wasn't disgust, and that was certainly new. "We will die. Prophecy or no, if we don't have some sort of backup."

Snape knew that he was staring, and had no other excuse than he was trying to figure out what exactly had changed. He was trying to determine if it was Potter, himself, or both?

"They will know our plans at the last possible moment. If there is a spy in the Order, I do not want them to have any time to run to the Dark Lord with our plans, ruining any chance of surprise we may have," Snape said, pleased that Harry was thinking about the big picture.

Harry stood up abruptly and began to pace. "I got a letter from Mr. Weasley today."

Snape frowned, unaware that Harry was corresponding with anyone. "And?"

"And the Order thinks I've betrayed them," he said flatly, coming to a stop in front of Snape with a troubled expression. "They think I ran; they don't believe I'm dead, but they think I left them."

Snape thought for a moment. "Again, that could work in our favor," he said, getting to his feet. "The less they know about you, the better. Encourage Arthur to foster that belief," he said, pacing as he began to think. "We are going to have to draw the Dark Lord out, and that will be easier to do without their involvement."

"Mmm," Harry hummed noncommittally, resuming his pacing. "He mentioned something else as well, that may interest you."

Snape arched his brow and waited for Harry to continue.

"Charlie has asked if one of his friends could join the order. It seems that he's had been telling him about it for the past few months and the friend joined him for Bill and Fleur's wedding."

"Though Charlie is one of the more intelligent Weasleys, I cannot say that I would trust his judgment completely in these matters. There is too much at stake for him to be running off his mouth," Snape said, scowling. "Did Arthur give you a name?"

Harry thought back to the letter this morning. "Jordan, I don't remember Mr. Weasley mentioning a last name."

"Damn it," Snape growled. "Please tell me that the Order refused the request," Snape said irritably.

Harry didn't say anything.

"Of all the idiotic things," Snape muttered, pacing the room. "I would have thought Moody of all  
people would have had more sense – constant vigilance and all that rot," he said, gesturing wildly with his hands. "Why the Order would take anyone into their confidence at this late date is beyond stupidity," he spat angrily before whirling to face Harry.

"This is why we will be keeping the Order in the dark," he said bitterly. "They will know only what I choose to tell them, when I choose to tell them, is that understood?"

"Yes, Severus," he answered, with a nod. What was there not to understand? He wasn't stupid; he could put two and two together and get four.

Snape was startled to hear his name from Harry's mouth. He had given the boy permission, but this was the first time Harry had actually used it. He found himself blinking at the boy, momentarily silenced.

Harry chewed on his bottom lip for a long moment waiting for the formidable man to say something. He wondered if he would get yelled at for using the man's first name, for it obviously wasn't his agreement that had stunned Severus into silence.

Snape shook himself out of his brief stupor, which he wrote off to tiredness. It certainly wasn't from any form of pleasure he took from hearing Harry say his name.

"Right, well, I think we're done here for today," he said, clearing his throat. "I'm going to shower," he added. "I'll see you at dinner."

"All right," Harry said quietly, before brushing around him and exiting the room. He had a few hours to kill and a sore back from being chucked into the wall one time, and a nap sounded like a terribly good idea.


	16. Chapter 16

**Co-written with Stormypup **

Beta'd by Rakina**  
**

* * *

**Chapter 16**

Falling asleep took less time than Harry had anticipated. He had climbed into the bed in the guest bedroom and pulled the sheets up almost over his head to block out the mid-afternoon sun before drifting off. The aches and pains of the day slowly eased from his body as it molded into the mattress. If he had stayed awake a little longer he might have seen Snape stick his head in through the door with a deeply puzzled expression before closing it softly behind him.

Perhaps Potter wasn't handling things as well he thought, Snape considered as he made his way to the shower. He wasn't accustomed to seeing Harry sleep in the middle of the day. Normally the boy had energy to spare after their training sessions. For the moment, his only thought was a hot shower to ease away the aches in his worn out body.

He stripped out of his clothing and turned on the water as hot as he could stand, relaxing in the steam as the water pelted his tired muscles. Perhaps Potter had the right idea. Severus felt like he could sleep for a week.

Steam filled the bathroom to the point where it was choking him and it was only then that Snape turned off the taps. His arms were red from the temperature of the water and the steam and he assumed the rest of him looked similar. He cursed his own carelessness as he stepped out of the shower onto the cool tiles and blindly reached for a towel, mumbling obscenities under his breath all the while. He rubbed the soft towel over his face, wiping the moisture from it so he could see more clearly.

He took his time drying off the rest of his body, ignoring the various marks and bruises he found. Harry was getting more spells through his shields, which was a good thing, no matter how much his body protested otherwise. Snape ran the towel through his hair roughly before running a comb through it, getting out the worst of the tangles.

He put on clean clothing and exited the bathroom, the steam wafting into the hallway behind him. He was passing by Harry's room when a strange sound stopped him. Frowning, he poked his head in the door to see Potter thrashing and moaning in his sleep.

Snape moved into the room, sweeping the interior of the room for unknowns but it appeared that whatever was plaguing Potter was in his mind. He debated crossing the room to wake him up, wondering if it would be worth the aggravation.

If it was Voldemort tormenting him, then he really should wake him before things got worse. He examined Harry's face, but saw no signs that he was in pain.

Snape furrowed his brow in confusion as he neared Potter's bed. What was wrong with the boy?

And then Potter moaned, and Snape recognized that moan for what it was, and his face colored. He was standing there watching Potter have a wet dream!

_Harry gasped as long, potion-stained fingers wrapped around his leaking erection, arching into the touch. He could feel the answering erection pressed against his arse and it was all he could do not to come on the spot. Greasy hair brushed against his cheek as his lover pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his neck. His fingers tugged on Harry's cock at a slow, teasing rate and no amount of urging on Harry's behalf could make him move faster. _

_"Please," he whined, hands clenching the silky sheets beneath him. _

Snape knew he should leave, that he shouldn't be watching this, but the look on Potter's face had him transfixed. He could see Harry's lips form the word "please", and much to his embarrassment, he felt himself becoming erect.

_Leave. Get out. Now! _

But he stood, rooted to the spot.

_He knew the end was near. He could feel it in the erratic way the hands were playing him. He could feel his lower stomach muscles clenching and tightening as the hand on his cock sped up and tightened and he exploded with a loud cry. _

_"Severus!" _

Hearing his own name from Harry's lips stunned Snape more than any spell ever had. Perhaps he had been wrong in his initial assessment, and Potter was having a nightmare after all.

Harry sighed heavily and rolled over in bed smacking his lips as he began to come back around.

Snape began backing away, needing to exit the room before the boy awoke and found him watching him like some kind of pervert.

"Nyeargh," Harry mumbled, half awake. He cracked open his eyes to the harsh daylight. He groaned as he felt his pants cling to him. It took him another thirty seconds to realize he wasn't alone in the room. And in that thirty seconds he came to realize exactly who he was looking at.

"Bloody fucking hell!" he swore. Any remaining sleep kicked off him like the blanket that was now on the floor.

"I thought you were having a nightmare," Snape said, trying to school his features but failing miserably. "I was just coming to wake you," he said, swallowing thickly. "I'll just...go," he said, wondering why his feet weren't moving.

He could lie to the face of the Dark Lord without betraying a thing, so why was he standing here, staring at Potter like some kind of fool?

Harry scrambled over the edge of the bed, desperate to hide the stain on the front of his pajama bottoms. He peeked over the edge at Snape for a long moment, trying not to bristle at the quirked eyebrow, as if Snape had any excuse to find this amusing. He had been the one watching him have a wet dream. And, _oh crap_... Harry's eyes desperately roved over Snape's face trying to glean if he had spoken in his sleep or not, because, fuck, that could be ugly – brutally ugly.

"I-uh..."

Snape considered using Legilimency on the boy, suddenly desperate to know what he had been thinking, but Potter had become too good at detecting and blocking it. Instead, he forced a concerned expression on his face. "Tell me, Potter, what were you dreaming about?" he asked. "You were thrashing and moaning. Is everything all right?" he asked, trying to remind himself that he had the upper hand in this situation.

_Why did you say my name? _

Harry blushed and buried his burning face against the side of the mattress. "M'fine," came the muffled response.

Snape smirked. "I'll just leave you to wake up then," he said, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice. He had run through a gauntlet of emotions from the time he walked in the room. Concern, shock, embarrassment, and now, intrigue.

Harry managed to chuck a pillow at the closing door before falling back onto the bed completely mortified.

"Wonderful," he muttered, clinging to the remaining pillow. "Just bloody wonderful."

Snape heard the thump of something hitting the door behind him and smiled. He wasn't at all certain how to feel about this new development. It could mean nothing, just normal teenage hormones expressing themselves in abnormal ways. After all, Potter was straight. It was merely a result of spending all of their time locked up together. Snape refused to delude himself that it was anything more than that.

But it did nothing to ease the erection straining against the front of his trousers. Snape had the sudden desire to take another shower. A very cold shower.

Harry didn't emerge for twenty minutes, once he was certain his face didn't look guilty as hell. He didn't know what was wrong with him. That was the third time that week he'd had that dream. He was straight, damn it! Straight. S-t-r-a-i-g-h-t. Right? He loved Ginny, didn't he? Didn't he?

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked down the hallway in new, clean clothing and went into the kitchen.

"What's the matter Potter, rough sleep?"

"Stuff it, Malfoy; I'm not in the mood."

He crossed the kitchen, opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk. He sniffed the contents and, once happy that it hadn't gone sour, got a cup out of a cupboard and poured himself a glass. He took a deep pull of the liquid, trying not to laugh at the sulking stance the blond had taken.

"What, Potter?"

"Nothing," Harry said, valiantly keeping the smirk off his face. "Where's Snape?"

"How am I supposed to know? Am I his keeper now?"

Harry shrugged and took another sip of milk.

"I do believe I am _your_ keeper, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, entering the kitchen and smirking at Draco. "Don't drink all the milk, Potter, I need it for dinner," he said, pulling various pots and pans from the cupboards, not looking at Harry.

"I thought it was my night to cook," Harry said, placing the milk back in the fridge, trying not to blush when Snape finally looked at him.

Draco laughed. "Your cooking is hardly palatable, Potter."

"At least I can cook, which is more than you can say," Harry said defensively.

"Enough!" Snape growled, slamming the pot on the countertop, causing both young men to jump. "Draco, make yourself useful and set the table."

Draco scowled. "I'm not a bloody house elf," he said, glaring at Harry.

"I don't mind, Severus," Harry said, not in the mood to spar with Draco.

Draco sneered. "So it's Severus now, is it?"

Snape narrowed his eyes at the blond in silent warning, but if Malfoy noticed he wasn't heeding it. The blond continued to stare at Snape and Potter, imperiously waiting for a reaction; Snape could only hope Potter had enough sense to keep his mouth shut.

"Table, Draco," Snape said, arching his brow in silent challenge.

"No," Draco replied, his lip curling into a sneer.

Snape shrugged. "Go hungry."

Draco's mouth dropped open in shock before it snapped closed in anger. Harry was having the hardest time not laughing at Malfoy's fair imitation of a four-year-old being told he couldn't have that toy today. It hurt to keep his jaw clenched so tightly, so without waiting to be excused he left the kitchen and went into the hallway, where he finally allowed himself to smile crazily. It was weird to see Snape put Malfoy in his place like that, but Harry couldn't help but think the ferret deserved it.

"Potter?"

Harry turned his head, his smile not vanishing, only dimming slightly. "Snape." He inclined his head slightly before going back to his thoughts.

Snape went back and continued making a meal, ignoring Draco completely. When he heard the cutlery drawer slamming open and closed, he bent his head and hid a smile behind a curtain of hair. Draco would throw his tantrum, but in the end do as he was asked. He would make them all pay of course, but it would be done.

When Harry returned to the kitchen, Snape could see no trace of the grin he'd had moments ago, though his eyes were still twinkling with amusement. "Make yourself useful, Potter," he said, sliding a cutting board towards him and handing him a knife.

"What? I don't even get a lecture on how to use sharp pointy objects properly?" Harry asked under his breath sensing Draco moving close by.

"The sharp edge goes down," Snape replied, smirking.

Harry choked back a laugh as he picked up a stalk of celery and began to cut it evenly, albeit dramatically, pointedly making it obvious that he was heeding Snape's words of caution.

Snape rolled his eyes and held back a smile, putting carrots next to his stalks of celery. "Smaller pieces, Potter," he said, though there was nothing wrong with the size of the current bits of celery.

"Git," Harry muttered without changing how he was cutting the celery.

Snape let out a short, "hmph," and returned his attention to the sauce on the stove. They were running very low on food; he was going to have to use some Polyjuice and go into town for supplies soon.

Harry silently handed over the chopped celery when Snape put out a hand for it. He leaned against the worktop, crossing his feet at the ankle. He watched as Snape added spices to the sauce with the same amount of care as he would with potion ingredients.

He blinked at the thought. When did he start noticing things about Snape? Come to think of it, when did he become comfortable teasing the man? He furrowed his brow in thought, trying to make sense of what he was feeling. It was exactly the same as he had felt in the training room except more subtle. He couldn't quite pin down the emotion, which was odd. He normally knew how he felt and showed it quite clearly, but now? He wasn't even sure what to think anymore.

Then it hit him. He felt _safe_ and _comfortable_, two words he would never have thought to associate with Snape of all people. He tried not to show how flabbergasted he was by his own thoughts, but he knew a bit of his shock had leaked through by the puzzled expression Snape shot at him.

He pushed off the counter top offering Snape a weak smile before sitting down at the table, hard. He followed his arms and rested them on the table before leaning his head on them.

"No manners at all, Potter."

"Shut up, Malfoy. I'm not going to repeat myself again."

"Not surprising really, raised by those filthy Muggles," Draco said disdainfully.

Before Snape could intervene, Harry had risen to his feet. His wand was in his hand and digging into the flesh under Draco's chin.

"I warned you, Malfoy," he said through clenched teeth.

"Potter! Put away your wand!" Snape ordered, reaching the young men in two quick strides.

Draco's eyes were wide and terrified, and Harry was ignoring Snape. He knew he was taking his own doubts and confusions out on Malfoy, but at the moment he didn't care.

"Potter," Snape said, and reached out a hand, covering Harry's with his own, forcing the wand down.

Harry blinked and looked at the hand that covered his own and up into Snape's scowling face. He bowed his head, ashamed, and sat down again with a soft thud.

"Sorry," he mumbled, not even looking at Draco.

"Sorry!" Draco shouted, outraged. "He could have killed me, Snape! Or does that not even matter, now Potter has his "Severus" to protect him," he added, putting the full amount of disgust into his voice as he sneered at the two of them.

Harry glared. "Sod off, Malfoy. Go and crawl into a hole somewhere and die." He stood up knocking over the chair. With one final withering glare, he headed out of the kitchen. He didn't even realize where he was going until he was at the door to the training room. Two seconds later he was in the room, wand in hand, rapidly casting at the padded wall as many minor-level spells as he could think of that wouldn't drain him.

"Fucking Malfoy and his fucking holier-than-thou-attitude with his stupid hair and stupid bloodlines," he muttered angrily as he shot off a jelly-legs jinx.

Snape scowled at Draco while he attended to the things on the stove that needed his immediate attention. "Get the rolls out in 6 minutes," Snape told him, and went in search of Harry.

Snape arrived in time to hear 'stupid hair and stupid bloodlines', which admittedly he found amusing. He leaned against the doorframe and took the opportunity to watch the young man. His spell casting was a bit erratic, but he was moving his feet and angling his body, just as he had been taught. It had become second nature to the boy and that was a good thing. The fewer things he had to think about when the time came, the better. Harry's instincts would serve him better than his brain.

He moved well. His well-muscled back and shoulders kept his wand level; Snape knew Harry could hold his wand straight and level for long stretches of time. His body was in perfect shape for what lay ahead. Moments later, Snape realized that he was appreciating Harry's body in a way that had nothing at all to do with defense. The subtle curve of his arse, the way his thigh muscles flexed beneath those Muggle jeans. Once again, he wanted to know what Harry had been dreaming about, and why he said Snape's name!

Harry wavered slightly and lowered his wand, slouching over. He wasn't magically drained but he was feeling oddly numb. Pinpricks raced up his neck and he knew someone was watching him.

"I hate him," he muttered, turning around and locking eyes with Snape.

"Sit down before you fall down," Snape said, frowning. He watched as Harry let out a huge sigh and slid to the floor.

"He's such an arrogant, inbred ferret," Harry continued angrily. "I've got to leave or I will hurt him. I'll hurt him bad."

Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose wishing he could just rewind events to when they were in kitchen, happily cutting up vegetables. "You're not going anywhere, Potter," he said tiredly.

Harry got to his feet. "You don't understand, Snape. I was so close to unleashing my rage on him, and I don't trust myself not to. I've got to get out of here."

Snape let out a deep sigh. "I will not let you out of my sight, Potter," he said, tiredly. "Stay here, I must speak with Mr. Malfoy," he said, steeling himself for the confrontation ahead.

Harry nodded and remained standing until Snape disappeared out the door before collapsing into a heap on the floor. It had been so long since he had been that close to losing control. He curled up on the padded floor and held his head, wishing the headache would just disappear.

Snape found Draco sitting at the table, pouting. "I am not your mother, Draco; that pout will not work with me," he said, frowning down at the boy.

Draco's pout turned into a scowl. "I don't understand, sir. Since when did Potter hold your regard?"

It was a question Snape wished he had an answer for, but instead, he shrugged it off as of no consequence. "Things are going to be changing, Draco, and for once in your life I need you not to fight me on it."

"I was here first," Draco grated out with annoyance.

Snape sighed, knowing that this wasn't going to be easy. "Yes, you were, but that changes nothing. Draco, we are going to be making our move on the Dark Lord soon. The further away from it all you are, the better it will be for you. When it's all over and the Ministry is doing their investigation, you will have been nowhere near the fighting. I'm trying save you, Draco," Snape said, trying to make Draco understand that he wasn't choosing Harry over him. He was choosing to end this war, and he needed Harry to do that.

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "What if I want to fight?"

Snape was momentarily taken aback by this question. "Why do you want to fight?" he asked, trying to ascertain the young man's motives.

Draco shrugged indifferently. "I don't. I was just wondering what you'd do if I said I wanted to."

"Draco, you are not my prisoner here. I'm doing all that I can to keep you safe," Snape said irritably. "And for the moment, the safest place for you is at our other safe house. I'll come by daily to spend time there with you," he said, trying to make a compromise Draco would accept.

"Fine," Draco said flatly. "I'll hide out there until the bloody war is over." He stood up and went to the sink and filled up a glass with water.

"Damn it, Draco, you're not being punished! Soon, this will all be over and you'll be able to go about your life. Just a little longer, alright?" Snape said, his irritation growing.

"I just don't like the fact that you're shacking up with Potter, that's all," Draco answered with annoyance.

Snape blanched. "You can hardly call this shacking up, Draco," he said, frowning. "We are training for a war I'm not certain we can win."

"When do you want me to leave?" Draco finally asked neutrally.

"I'll leave that up to you. Tonight or in the morning, whichever is most convenient," Snape said, letting out a pent up breath. "All the same rules apply of course, and I'll send along what's left of our food here. I plan doing the shopping tomorrow and I'll bring by more supplies for you."

Draco nodded. "Tonight," he said decisively. "The shorter amount of time I have to spend around Scarhead the better."

"Gather your things and I'll finish dinner so you can eat before you go," Snape said.

Draco nodded curtly and exited the kitchen. Snape watched him go, trying to ease the headache at the base of his head.

Snape and Draco ate a subdued dinner, and Harry never made an appearance at the table, for which Snape was grateful. His pounding headache couldn't take anymore arguing between the two of them. Once the food was eaten, Snape helped Draco shrink some of his bulkier items and saw him to the Apparation point.

"I'll be by tomorrow with food," Snape assured him.

Draco shrugged. "Whatever," he said blandly. Snape had told him it wasn't a punishment, but it was, and he knew it. He couldn't wait until this ended one way or another. Dead Potter or dead Dark Lord. Either way, Draco would win.

With a final look at Snape, Draco wordlessly Apparated away.

"Is he gone?" Harry asked, his voice cracking from the lack of fluid in his system.

Snape was startled by the dry voice coming from behind him. He turned to find Harry looking at him, looking lifeless.

"Sit down and eat," he said, pointing to the table. Harry did as he was asked, and Snape couldn't help but notice that something wasn't right.

"Potter," he said softly but the command was evident. Harry turned his head and looked at him.

"Something is obviously eating at you. What is it?" he asked, frowning at the boy.

Harry set his fork down beside his plate and picked at the tablecloth for a moment. "It's nothing."

Snape decided to try a different track altogether. "Does this have anything to do with your...dream?" he asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

Harry blanched then blushed all in the span of thirty seconds. "Sort of," he mumbled into his hands that he had brought up to hide his flaming face.

"You cannot put too much stock in adolescent dreams, Potter," he said, trying to ease the boy out of his embarrassment at least long enough to get the details. "Would you like to talk about it?" he asked, his voice casual.

Harry looked at the man, shock written clearly across his face.

"Are you serious?"

Snape shrugged negligently. "I merely thought it might help you get over it if you were to talk about it, and I admit to being curious as to how my name came up."

"Oh, Merlin." Harry's head thunked against the tabletop. Now he knew. He _had_ spoken aloud. Well... crap, now what? Snape obviously suspected something already, but the way he was needling him seemed like he wanted confirmation and that was something Harry wasn't going to give.

"I have been known to give students and small children nightmares, Potter. Whatever I did to you in that dream couldn't have been all that bad," he said, deciding the direct approach wasn't working, so he would have to approach through a well thought out lie.

Harry turned his head so he could see Snape clearly. "No, it wasn't bad," he answered softly, raising his head off the table.

"It couldn't have been too good if you're afraid to tell me about it," Snape said, not above using guilt and manipulation to get what he wanted.

Harry knew he was being boxed into a corner, could feel his back up against the metaphysical rope, but he couldn't cave in, not yet.

"Perhaps it was too good."

Snape nodded. "Ah, I see, in your dream I finally gave you a passing grade in Potions," he said, arching his brow mockingly.

Harry laughed at that. He couldn't help it. It was obvious Snape knew what kind of dream it was. Why was he forcing the matter?

Snape cocked his head and looked at Harry. "Are you even gay, Potter?"

"I don't know," Harry answered through his laughter, which had taken on a slightly hysterical edge.

"One would think you'd have better fantasies than...well...this," he said, motioning to himself and smirking.

"Would you rather I dream of Malfoy, because honestly, he doesn't have anything going for him but his looks."

Well, that had been unexpected. Harry frowned at his own words. Mainly because it sounded like Harry had in fact checked Malfoy out, which was more than a little disgusting in thought and in practice.

"He is a rather attractive young man. It's too bad he has to open his mouth and ruin it all," Snape said with a mock sigh. "I wouldn't worry about it, Potter. I'm sure it was just a one time aberration," Snape said dismissively, though he was looking at Harry intently.

Harry flushed again and bowed his head. "It wasn't the first time."

Snape swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat, not at all certain how to take this revelation. He cleared his throat. "Well, be that as it may, I'm sure it means nothing," he said nervously. He should stop right there, get up and walk away. "How many times?" he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

Harry groaned. Why was he telling Snape this, now of all times? Was he really expecting something to happen other than disgust on Snape's part? It was stupid, his body was stupid and his altered heart rate was even stupider.

"Three times...this week."

"This week?" Snape asked, eyes widening. _Does that mean there were times before this week? _

They should not be talking about this. He needed to do the responsible thing. Tell Potter to grow up, get a grip on his imagination, and keep his adolescent dreams to himself. But that would require that he stop asking questions about them and he couldn't seem to do that. Harry was looking at Snape pleadingly as if it were his fault that Harry was blabbing this out to him.

This had to stop.

Snape got to his feet and made his voice as bland as possible. "You'll get over it," he said dismissively, though in his own mind, Snape was wondering how_ he_ was going to get over it.

Harry stared up at Snape with a confused and slightly hopeful expression. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was just a phase that he would get over once they reentered the rest of the world again.

"Yeah," he agreed absently, gaze firmly fixed on the tabletop.

Snape couldn't help but notice that Harry was quite pleased with the fact he would get over his...dreams. Despite everything, Snape found himself irritated that the brat would want to dismiss them as soon as possible.

Snape had lost his mind, that was all there was to it.

"I'm going to bed," Snape said, voice tight. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Night," Harry muttered, the hopeful expression fading into sheer confusion once again.


	17. Chapter 17

**Co-written with Stormypup**

Beta'd by Rakina

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

With a small frown Harry watched Snape leave. He drummed his fingers against the tabletop, agitated. Damn the man! It took considerable strength not to slam his head against the wooden surface before him. If only Snape knew. If only he knew how hard Harry tried to prevent those dreams from occurring. How often he had fallen asleep thinking about Ginny only to wake up with sticky sheets from an erotic dream about Snape. It was mortifying.

He pushed the chair back from the table, the legs dragging against the wood-paneled floor with a harsh sound. Pushing his glasses back up his nose, he stood. Times like this called for something to clutch onto, something warm and soothing. Harry walked across the room and picked up the teakettle off the stove before moving over to the sink and filling it with water. He placed the metal kettle on the back burner before turning on the stove.

Ruefully, he rubbed at his scar as he leaned against the work top and stared down at his bare feet. He noted idly that his toenails needed trimming but he could take care of that later, more important thoughts were clouding his mind now. Like Snape. But then, in the past seven years, when had the man been far from his thoughts? When he wasn't serving a detention, he was off somewhere seething about something cruel Snape had done. His memories and feelings were beginning to jar violently. The two Snape's he knew didn't mesh in his mind, for they certainly were two distinctive entities. There was Snape, and then there was Severus. Both were relentless, both were as sarcastic as they come, but one wasn't as cruel, at least not in a relaxed setting.

Harry wondered what would have happened if he had gone back to Hogwarts with Ron, Ginny, and Hermione. What would have become of this tentative camaraderie that he shared with the greasy bastard? Would it have fizzled with distance; faded into nothing, just a distant memory? Harry wasn't sure he liked that thought all too much. He genuinely enjoyed conversing with Snape now, so long as Malfoy wasn't around.

But still, those damned dreams. He was positive he was straight. He had never so much as looked at another guy before now. He loved Ginny. He did! He missed her, missed her strawberry-scented hair and her curves, missed her smile and her infectious laughter, but…every time he closed his eyes all he could see was dark, lanky hair and thin, potion-stained fingers marred with tiny scars from times long forgotten.

This afternoon was the worst by far. Not only was it the single most intense dream he'd had to date, but also Snape had been there to witness the finale. Harry shook his head trying to dispel the ripple of arousal that accompanied that memory. He was not going to get aroused in the kitchen!

Had the universe gone nutty? Was there someone out there plotting against every aspect of his life? Surely even Voldemort was not this cruel. No, this was all him, all his bloody hormones. This was…him. Maybe he was just Snape-oriented. It sounded illogical, but he wasn't gay. He wasn't. He just…happened to get a rush of pleasure each time Snape looked at him. Just happened to get erections at the most inconvenient times, that was all. Nothing important. There were no fond feelings for Snape; none, right? Wrong! His brain screamed at him and he almost felt ashamed of his own thoughts. He couldn't lie to himself. There was some kind of feeling for Snape and it wasn't hatred. It hadn't been in a long time either if he were honest with himself. Whatever he felt now, it was deeper than respect, and it frightened him.

The shrill shriek of the teakettle snapped his thoughts back and caused him to jump. He grabbed a mug out of the cabinet next to the sink, took the kettle off the burner and turned off the stove. Harry sighed heavily. His mind hadn't even left him alone long enough to boil the damned water!

* * *

Snape lay on his bed, staring blankly at the darkened ceiling. What was the matter with him? He had no business talking about anything remotely sexual with Potter. The age difference and his position of authority notwithstanding, it was just a bad idea.

And yet he had continued to push the boy for information. Merlin, he may as well have asked Harry for all the dirty details.

Is this what he had become? A lonely old man so desperate for a connection with someone that he...what? Considered getting involved with a former student?

Was that what he was doing? Considering it?

"Bloody fucking hell," he ground out, slamming a fist down on the mattress. Where in the hell had that come from? The boy had a few wet dreams about him. That did not constitute 'getting involved'.

Did he, on some level, wish to get involved?

The very idea was ludicrous.

So why couldn't he rid himself of the vision of Harry, writhing on his bed, moaning out his name when he climaxed. And why in the name of Merlin did the whole bloody thing arouse him? It was perverse!

Snape clenched his teeth and repeatedly opened and closed his hands in agitation. He hadn't even done anything and he was feeling guilty. His stubborn erection wasn't helping matters either. It was a constant reminder of things he wished to forget.

"Bugger it," he growled, rolling to his feet. He threw open the door to his bedroom and stalked to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He turned the shower on cold and stripped off his clothing. Steeling himself, he stepped under the ice-cold spray.

* * *

Harry was seated at the kitchen table again, hands firmly clenched around his mug when he heard the master bedroom's door slam open and crash into the wall, followed by the sound of angry footsteps, then the sound of the bathroom door shutting. He told himself he was not straining to listen. He swore he didn't hear the shower starting down the hall because he had tilted his chair back.

But the shower was running. Snape. In the shower. Water. Snape. Shower. FUCK. Harry's hold on his cup of tea tightened till his knuckles turned white. He was not thinking of Severus Snape in the shower. Nope, definitely not thinking about the water trailing over Snape's toned body. And, Merlin! The man was toned, and he never would have known had he not been so clumsy during the early stages of training. Tripped right into the bastard and discovered him to be as hard as rock. Bloody hell, no, not hard… refined, chiseled. Not hard! Damn it. He growled low in his throat. Not thinking about Snape in the shower. Snape naked in the shower. NO! Not thinking about it. I am not thinking about it. No-

His mug shattered from pressure and the scalding contents spilled onto his lap. "FUCK!" he yelped, jumping up immediately in distress. His lap felt like it was on fire. He tripped over his own feet as he ran to the guest bedroom and stripped out of his jeans and changed his underpants before laying down on the bed, ignoring the red skin from where the tea had seeped through his clothing. "Fuck," he cursed again, closing his eyes with a grimace.

* * *

By the time Snape turned off the water his lips were nearly blue, but his arousal was completely gone, for which he was grateful. He rubbed the towel vigorously across his flesh, trying to bring any manner of heat back to his skin.

He pulled on his clothes and left the bathroom, desperate for a hot cup of tea.

He entered the kitchen and almost slipped on the puddle on the floor.

"POTTER!"

Harry cringed and stood up slowly, hissing as his shirt brushed across the top of his legs. Desperately trying to ignore the fact that he was about to go answer Snape's yell in nothing more than a baggy t-shirt and underpants, he walked stiffly out of the guest room and down the hall. He paused in the entrance of the kitchen.

"Yes?"

"Why is there a puddle in the middle -"

The words stopped as soon as he turned around to find Harry standing there half naked.

"Where are your trousers?" he dumbly asked, unable to raise his eyes from the pale flesh of Harry's muscled thighs.

Harry flushed and shifted awkwardly. "I couldn't put any on," he mumbled.

Snape forced his eyes up to Harry's face, frowning. "How does one forget how to put on one's trousers?" he asked tightly.

Harry didn't even want to dignify that with a response. "I burned my legs." Smooth, Potter, real smooth, so much better than forgetting how to put on your jeans. Now you sound like a right idiot.

Snape felt the sudden urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but he was afraid if he started, he would become hysterical. Potter was standing there in nothing but his knickers, adding fuel to whatever demented fire was brewing in his head.

"Go and wait in your room, I'll get something," he said, averting his eyes and hurrying from the room.

Harry walked, or perhaps waddled, back to the guest room and turned around and fell back on the bed. He was just too exhausted to care.

Snape rummaged through his small valise of potions until he found a salve that would work on burns. Taking a deep breath, he walked to Harry's room and sat down on the edge of his bed, careful not to touch the boy.

"How did it happen?" he asked, taking the lid off of the potion vial.

Harry moaned in misery and brought a hand up to his face and scrubbed it vigorously. He kept his hand over his face as if he couldn't even stand to look at Snape.

"You.Shower.Tea."

Snape blinked.

"I see," he said, feeling a riot of emotions. "Can you...?" he asked, motioning towards Harry's burns. Harry nodded and held out a hand for the salve. Snape handed it to Harry and looked away, staring at the wall. This was too much to ask of any man. "I'm in hell," he murmured.

"Preaching to the choir."

Harry squeezed some of the cool blue, gel-like substance onto his hands before massaging it into his legs. He hissed in pain at the contact, feeling like he was squeezing lemon juice into a paper cut. It stung. "These things should come with warning labels." He grimaced as he finished up his right leg and moved onto his left.

Snape turned his head and watched Harry's face as he applied the salve. He could see when the pain turned to relief, but he refused to look at Harry's thighs.

This would be the time when he should get up and walk away, yet he found himself unable to move. He turned his head away, rested his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands.

"Tell me to leave," he said, voice almost desperate.

Harry whipped his head up in shock; so intent on healing his legs he had almost forgotten Snape was still there. A million warning signs flared to life in his mind telling him to heed the man's warnings, but he brushed them aside carelessly.

"Why?"

"Because if you don't, I'm liable to do something we will both regret," he said, closing his eyes.

Harry stared at him for a long moment. He chewed on his bottom lip, his hands falling to the comforter, twitching as if he wanted to touch Snape but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He didn't know what to do. Part of him was telling him to run, and it was the more sensible part. The other part of him was screaming at him to press the issue to see what happened, because whatever it was it wouldn't be horrible.

"No."

"What?"

"I said no. Don't leave."

Snape turned to look at Harry once again, shaking his head. He shifted on the bed so he was facing Harry. "You're an idiot, Potter," he said, sliding his hand to cup Harry's face. "And I'm a fool," he added before leaning in, his lips a hair's breadth from Harry's.

"Tell me to leave," he repeated.

"No."

"Shit," Snape whispered before touching his lips to Harry's, brushing against them softly before pulling back to look at Harry, waiting for him to scream, or yell, or hex him.

Harry blinked slowly as Snape pulled away. "Why'd you stop?"

Snape licked his dry lips. "You should be asking why I started," Snape said, frowning. "Idiot," he muttered once again before closing the distance between them once again.

Harry fisted the comforter below him as the initial shock wore off. One of his hands drifted from the bed to Snape's chest and rested there, lightly gripping the shirt's material as he slowly began to move his lips against Snape's.

Snape moaned softly when Harry began to kiss him back, his hand fisting the front of Snape's shirt. For this one moment, he wasn't going to think. He was going to take what he wanted, knowing he would have to deal with the consequences later.

Snape allowed his tongue to run across Harry's lips, teasingly. Harry gasped softly, his mouth parting just enough for Snape to dart his tongue inside.

Snape's mouth opened against Harry's, his tongue stroking and teasing, his fingers tightening in Harry's hair. The slow exploration soon turned to ardent aggression, his mouth slanting hungrily against Harry's.

It took a moment for Harry's whimper to get through to the working part of Snape's brain. He pulled back, looking at Harry, unsure.

Harry wavered forward, his eyes still closed.

"You stopped again," he muttered thickly, slowly opening his eyes.

Snape swallowed and nodded, the reality of the situation crashing in on him. He got to his feet, stumbling backwards. "This was a mistake that can never be repeated," he said, backing from the room.

"Mistake?" Harry blinked, clearing the fog from his eyes. "What do you mean, mistake?"

"This cannot happen, Potter," Snape replied. "Surely you can see that. I shouldn't have kissed you. I shouldn't even have come in here," he said, the ramifications of what he had just done slamming him in the gut.

"Well, why not?" Harry glared at the older man, crossing his arms across his chest. If Snape thought he was getting away that easily, especially after that, he was sorely mistaken.

"Merlin, you're not even out of school yet!" Snape said, scowling, taking his anger at himself out on Harry. "I went to school with your bloody parents!" Snape shook his head. "I've done some reprehensible things in my life, but taking advantage of a student is not, and will not, be one of them," he said, his lip curling into a sneer.

"I'm not your student anymore."

"Not even you can be that thick, Potter."

"But I'm not," Harry insisted. "I'm never going to complete school, sir. I'll either be dead before it happens or bored to tears if I live to return."

"I forbid you to die," Snape replied, as if saying it would make it true.

"You _forbid_ me to die?" Harry said with a disbelieving laugh.

Snape's scowl intensified. "Yes, Potter, I forbid it," he hissed angrily. "If you die, I have failed, and failure is not an option."

"Let's face it Se- Snape, I will die. What are the odds that I will win? Honestly, one boy against a wizard with over seventy years of experience. And don't lie to me. I am sick to fucking death of being lied to."

Snape bent down, putting his face right in front of Harry. "You're right, you very well may die, but you will not go quietly, and you will not be going alone. I will do everything in my power to protect you. I will die before I allow anything or anyone to stop you. Too much has been sacrificed to ensure your victory, and I'll be damned if you fail," he growled.

"Severus, I-" Harry choked on the last bit before offering the man a watery smile. It was all the warning Snape got before Harry threw himself at him, wrapping his arms around his waist burying his face in the man's shirt. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't because he couldn't allow himself to.

Snape looked down in shock as Harry threw himself around his waist. He closed his eyes and put a hand in Potter's hair, carding his fingers through it, wondering when things had gone so absolutely pear-shaped.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

"Do I have to write this crap?"

Harry nibbled on the end of his quill as he stared up at Snape pleadingly. He had been trying to start this letter for the past forty-five minutes and he was nowhere near completing it. As a matter of fact he had only just now settled on an opening. This was worse torture than detention with Umbridge. He stared at the faint scars on the back of his right hand and sighed.

"This 'crap', Potter, is going to get your message to the Dark Lord. You will write it."

Harry scowled and sank further in the kitchen chair, idly twirling the quill between his fingers.

"And don't pout."

Harry stuck out his tongue and straightened back up again, dipping the nib in his pot of black ink.

"Yes, sir."

_Dear Ms. Skeeter,_

Recently there have been many untruths printed about me in the Daily Prophet, and I wish to dispel not only the rumors of my death, but also the rumor that I have run in fear from Voldemort. The truth is, I'm quite looking forward to meeting up with him, which is where I need your help. I'm giving you the chance for a scoop of a lifetime and all you have to do is print a letter I wrote on the front page of the Prophet. Otherwise, I'll take it to the Quibbler, and you'll be scooped once again.

Sincerely,  
Harry Potter

"I've read better, but this will have to do."

Harry stuck out his tongue again. "Oh wow, thanks."

"Keep your tongue to yourself, Potter," Snape remarked, arching his brow in amusement.

"Make me," Harry said.

Snape looked thoughtful for a moment. "What is that phrase you use? Ah, yes. Shut it, Potter," he said with a mock smile.

"He can smile," Harry said with false awe, rolling his eyes and for emphasis stuck out his tongue again.

Snape's brow arched. "As you should well know, considering I smiled each time I gave you detention."

"That was a smile?" Harry asked, with a small smirk. He tilted his head to the side and looked at Snape owlishly. "So, all these years a scowl was a smile...who knew? I certainly didn't. I suppose that means I'll have to start scowling as well now."

"You could, but you'd only look foolish," Snape said airily. "It takes a measure of talent to pull off a good scowl."

"Are you calling me untalented?" Harry asked cheekily. He took the letter back from Snape and folded it up and set it off to the side, before meeting Snape's eyes once again.

"Can you do something besides play Quidditch?" Snape asked, infusing shock into his voice. "Who knew?" he said, smirking.

"Shut it," Harry said.

Snape laughed. The look of shock on Harry's face just made him laugh harder.

"You're laughing."

Snape snorted, the corner of his lip twitching in a mocking smile. "Did you have doubts?"

"Well... yeah!"

"I've found little to laugh about in the last ten years," he said, shrugging. "And if I had slept worth a damn last night, I wouldn't be so...giddy," he said, as if the word itself was something vile and disgusting.

"You slept poorly last night?"

Snape scowled and looked at Harry as if he was daft.

"Idiot," he said, shaking his head.

Harry furrowed his brow before it hit him. "Oh!" he said, eyes going wide.

"Quite," Snape said, rolling his eyes.

He grabbed the letter to the Prophet and tucked it into his pocket. "I'm going to the barn to owl this. I'll be back shortly," he said, happy to have a reason to leave the room.

Harry nodded and watched him go with a small smirk. He kept him up all night. Once he was fairly certain Snape was out of earshot, he burst out in laughter.

Snape Disapparated to the barn and called down the old owl, who nipped him irritably on the ear. "Stop that you blasted bird," Snape warned.

He gave the owl its instructions and sent it off to deliver the letter to the Prophet.

The idea of returning to the cottage where Harry was waiting filled him with both pleasure and dread. Snape wasn't feeling as guilty as he should about the night before when he kissed Potter. He'd been so responsive to Snape's touch, and Snape had wanted nothing more than to take everything Harry had offered him.

At least he'd stopped it before it got out of control. Though at the moment he was too damned aroused to take comfort in that fact. He'd been aroused when he finally managed to drift into a restless sleep, and when he'd awoke he'd been so hard it was almost painful. But he'd refused to indulge in a good wank while Potter was in the house.

With his luck, the brat would burst into the room the minute he started. That was a humiliation he did not need.

But Potter wasn't here now, and there was nothing stopping him from taking care of the need he'd been ignoring since he'd walked in on Potter mid-dream.

"Bugger it," he muttered, undoing the fly on his trousers. He moaned softly when his fingers wrapped around his throbbing cock, and he couldn't help but imagine that it was Potter's hands, stroking and teasing.

He leaned his back against the wall of the barn and closed his eyes, allowing himself to indulge in the fantasies he had been fighting. His thumb traced small circles around the head of his cock, spreading the pre-cum around, making it slick. In his mind, it was Harry's tongue doing the teasing. He imagined his hands in Harry's hair as he thrust in and out of Potter's mouth, the wet heat nearly driving him mad.

"Yes," he hissed, tightening his grip as he thrust into his own hand.

Harry had been a good boy long enough. It didn't take this long to send off a letter, even if that someone was Snape. He stood up and pulled out his wand before Disapparating to the barn. He stumbled a little when he reappeared, but not because he was off balance. He stared in open admiration at the sight before him. This was...so bloody arousing. Harry had to temper the moan of longing that was threatening to escape. He inhaled sharply and stepped into the shadows content for the moment just to watch.

He could feel himself growing hard. His erection pressed painfully against the inside of his jeans. But he wouldn't touch, not yet, not...oh. He watched as Snape flung his head back and let out a deep groan as his hand sped up. Harry fumbled desperately for the zipper of his own jeans, unaware of how loud the rasp of it was in the mainly silent barn.

Snape's eyes shot open at the strange sound and stumbling he reached for his wand. "Lumos!" he cried, pointing towards the sound.

There stood Harry, eyes wide and bright, face flushed, with his hand in the process of pulling his cock out of his jeans.

Harry felt like a small child with his hand caught in the proverbial cookie jar. He grinned hesitantly, before that grin turned into a full fledged smirk. Snape was still hard. Harry licked his lips slowly and tugged his member fully out of his jeans and stroked it once roughly.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked, his voice coming out in a rasp. Harry's bold stare was like a challenge and it shot straight to Snape's cock.

Harry gasped softly, the smirk never fully leaving. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Snape swallowed thickly, holding back a moan. Potter looked so delectable standing there defiantly, cock in hand, making those little noises that were going to drive Snape absolutely mad.

He closed his eyes, his jaw clamped tight, trying to get control of the situation.

Harry's eyes sparkled with devilish delight as he could almost see the smoke coming out of Snape's ears. Really now, the man was trying far too hard to ignore him now. Speaking of hard… Harry groaned deeply as he ran his thumb around of the head of his cock.

Snape's eyes snapped open at Harry's moan.

Fucking little tease!

With a growl he was upon Potter in a second, pressing him up against the wall and claiming his mouth, shoving Harry's hand away and replacing it with his own. He held nothing back, taking out all of his frustration as he devoured and plundered Harry's mouth, his hand stroking and squeezing Harry's cock almost painfully. He delighted in the moans and whimpers issuing from Potter, and felt triumphant when he felt Harry's orgasm rip through his whole body which trembled against Snape's.

When the tremors subsided, Snape stepped back, tucking his still hard erection back into his trousers and glaring at a very satiated Harry.

"Happy now?" he panted.

Harry opened his eyes groggily and met Snape's frosty glare.

"No." He shook his head. He fixed his appearance stoically, shooting a long stare over his shoulder at Snape. "Don't follow me." And then he was gone.

Snape slammed his fist against the wall; angry at Harry, angry with himself, and angry about the whole bloody mess. "Fine, go get yourself killed," he snarled before Disapparating back to the cottage.

Once on the grounds, he stalked to the house and threw open the door, ignoring the loud slamming noise it made as it bounced off the wall. He went directly to his room, slamming the door angrily behind him. He paced the floor, murmuring angrily to himself.

"Idiot boy! He has no idea what kind of disaster he just courted. Flaunting himself that way," he snarled, grabbing a pillow off the bed and throwing it across the room for lack of anything else to throw.

Snape paced the room, clenching his hands in his greasy hair. He had no one to blame but himself. He was the one stupid enough to have kissed the boy in the first place. Had he used some self-control, this never would have happened.

There was a special place in the fiery pits of hell for men like him, and that last ten minutes had surely sealed his fate there.

When Potter returned, if Potter returned, they would write the blasted letter to the Dark Lord and end this mess before he did something completely unforgivable.

Like murder the all too attractive brat!

Harry staggered over to the tool shed and opened it. It was big enough to walk around in and was completely empty. A little house in the backyard all to himself.

"God damn it!" he cried, kicking the shed door hard, not even noticing the shooting pain that raced up his leg. He sank to the floor and tugged on his hair. What had possessed him to do something so foolish? Who was he kidding? Who was he fucking kidding?

He slammed his fist against the wood floor, not in the least bit deterred when his knuckles split open. Bugger this. Snape wanted him. He honestly wanted him. Geeky, short, knobby-kneed, flyaway hair, baggy clothed Harry Potter. Either something was very wrong with the man or there was something very wrong with him. But Snape wanted him. He wanted him. Harry's throat went dry and he let out a rasping laugh.

You sssssmell sssad, youngling.

Harry cocked his head to the side trying to identify the speaker, before spotting a tiny garden snake in the corner. He sagged in relief, closing his eyes briefly.

Sssuposse I am.

The little snake slithered toward him, its tongue flicking in and out, gathering information about Harry.

You ssspeak like ussss.

Harry quirked an eyebrow and held out a hand. He watched as the snake wound its way around his wrist before answering.

Yessss, but you knew that before. How?

You were curssssing like ussss. Why do you not bite him if you are ssssso angry?

Harry laughed sadly. Biting won't help.

Have you no venom?

Harry shook his head bemused. No and if I bit him he'd certainly get the wrong messssage.

Perhapsss I can bite him for you

Would it kill him?

Of courssssse the snake replied, sounding offended.

"He's too mean to die," Harry said, stroking a finger along the snake's head. "And I need him," he said, sighing. "Even worse, I want him."

What did you say, youngling?

Harry stared at the snake with a small smile. I want him. He flushed as he realized he had only said half of what he had said out loud, but it made little difference.

To mate?

Harry blushed harder. Yesss.

Then you musssst take him and make him yourssss

I can't jusssst do that!

The snake's head lifted and swayed in front of Harry.

Then sssssome other will mate with him and you will continue to be ssssad

He hatessss me! Harry shouted choking on the words.

I ssssmell hisss sssscent mingled with yourssss. It ssssmells of mating

Harry groaned and slammed his head against the wood wall behind him. Thatss why he hatesss me.

He wantsss you. It iss in hiss sscent

It doesssn't matter, not too him.

The snake began unwinding itself from Harry's arm.

I will bite him

But you said it would kill him!

Ssssso?

I don't want him dead.

He doesss not want you. He sssshall die

Harry groaned. I wouldn't care if it paralyzed him it would ssssserve him right, but don't kill him. I sssstill need him.

If it were possible for a snake to shrug, Harry was certain the little reptile had just shrugged at him.

Ssuit yourssself

The snake slithered across the dusty floor of the shed. Come back if you change your mind

Harry nodded rather wishing the snake had stuck around. He would need that companionship, for he was certain he knew what awaited him once he entered the house.

Meanwhile, Snape had stormed through every room of the house searching for Harry. If the little idiot had gone and done something stupid, he would wring his little neck. He returned to the kitchen, filled a kettle and slammed it onto the stove.

"Bloody little fool," he growled.

Harry winced, hearing the loud clang from the kitchen. Ah, so maybe Trelawney was wrong. Maybe he did possess the inner eye. Or maybe he was beginning to pick up on Snape's habits. That was a scary thought. Lust was fine, comfortable thoughts not so much. He paused in the doorway, his fingers clenching the wooden doorframe, he really didn't want to have this confrontation, but it was sorely needed.

Snape caught site of movement from the corner of his eye and whirled around. "Where the hell did you go?" he snapped, relief turning to anger in a heartbeat.

Harry flinched, his grip on the doorpost tightening. "The back yard."

"Don't wander off again," Snape growled angrily and moved toward the doorway. He glared at Harry until the boy moved before storming from the room, very careful not to touch him as he passed.

Harry watched him go nervously. That was it? No other comments? Just don't wander off. Either Snape was losing his touch or something else was plaguing him. But that was stupid; it was obvious he was still angry with him for what happened earlier.

Harry sighed and took his customary seat at the mahogany table. He stared blankly at the pattern on the top of it. A shrill whistle jostled him from his thoughts and he looked over to the stove where the kettle was steaming.

A small sad smile flitted across his face as he stood up, fully prepared to dump out the contents, when an idea crossed his mind. He went over to the cupboard with the cups and pulled out a teacup. He set it beside the stove and got out the tealeaves and put them in the bottom of the cup before going about making the rest of it.

Once done, he carefully picked up the cup. This was suicide.

Slowly, he headed down the hall and knocked on Snape's bedroom door and took a large step backwards.

Snape's head snapped up and he stopped mid-pace when the knock sounded on his door. In two quick steps, he was at the door, throwing it open.

"What?" he snapped, glaring.

Harry held out the cup of tea silently.

Snape blinked, then stared at the cup of tea, caught off guard once again.

"I molest you in a barn and you bring me tea?" he asked, finally meeting Harry's eyes. "Are you mad?"

"I'm sorry," Harry said with a small shrug, pushing the tea into Snape's hands.

Snape threw back his head and stared at the ceiling, at a complete and total loss. "Are you trying to torment me, Potter?" he asked tiredly.

"No, I'm trying to apologize. You'd know if I was tormenting you."

"There's a difference?" he asked, looking at Harry once again.

"I certainly hope so."

Snape snorted and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "Potter, I will not have you standing in my bedroom looking like a kicked puppy. Go back to the kitchen and I'll join you momentarily."

Snape finally removed the hand from his face and looked at Harry.

Harry gnawed on his lower lip then nodded. "All right."

Snape watched Harry walk away before closing the door softly behind him. It was time to put a stop to this nonsense. There were more things at stake than raging hormones, and it was time he reminded Potter of that fact.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

When Snape entered the kitchen his face was composed as he walked to the stove and freshened his tea. He moved to the table and sat across from Harry, who was watching him with nervous interest.

Snape set his tea upon the table as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, studying Harry.

"Do you have any idea of what you're doing? What you're playing with?" Snape asked, his brow furrowed. "We don't have time to indulge your adolescent hormones, Potter. We've wasted enough time just getting you prepared to face the Dark Lord, and we cannot waste any more."

Harry winced and said nothing, fingering the edge of the table. "Of course."

Snape summoned a quill and paper and set it in front of Harry, ignoring his hangdog expression. "Write your letter to the Prophet. Feel free to be insulting, as we are trying to draw him out," Snape said, attempting to dismiss the idea of Harry's hormones altogether.

And his own for that matter.

"What if Skeeter doesn't respond though?"

Snape sneered. "She'll respond. She can't afford not to," he said, sipping his tea.

"Right." He picked up the quill and pulled the parchment closer and then stopped. What did one say to the Dark Lord to draw him out? He frowned sullenly. Joy, and he thought the letter he had penned to Skeeter had been hard.

Voldemort, No, that just sounded dumb. Might as well start out by writing "My Dearest Darling Tom," for all the good that would do. He sighed pensively and cocked his head to the side as he scratched that out. Starting was always hard. Maybe if he skipped it completely and just started the meat of the letter it would be easy. And Snape did say he could be insulting if he chose to.

Snape moved about the kitchen, watching Harry struggle without him actually knowing he was being studied. He could almost see the wheels turning in Potter's head as he studied the piece of parchment in front of him.

It was almost amusing to watch Harry go from quiet desperation to grinning in triumph when his quill began to flow across the page.

Snape took the letter from Harry, frowning at the boy's gleeful expression. His eyes grew wider as he read through the letter. He didn't know whether to laugh or be horrified at the things Harry had said.

"I was not aware you had such a vocabulary," Snape said when he came to the line about Riddle's "sycophant Death Eaters," hiding behind masks like children at Halloween. Snape had to admit he'd often felt silly as one of those grown men and women wearing masks to inspire fear. One shouldn't need props to be scary. It was a matter of attitude, as his former students could attest.

Harry smirked. "I listen to those around me sometimes."

"Shocking," Snape said mockingly as he finished reading the letter.

"Well?" Harry asked with a mixture of defiance and nervousness.

Snape set the letter down on the table and leaned back in his chair. He tapped a finger against his lips, staring at Harry through narrowed eyes. The truth was, if Potter had written such a letter to him, he would have hunted him down and made him pay for every single word.

"It'll do," Snape said, unable to keep the small smile from his lips. "He'll be out for blood, but that is the whole point," he said, his grin turning darker.

"I suppose that means we're going to be training more intensively, doesn't it?"

"That's twice in one day you've astounded me with your intelligence," Snape replied, getting to his feet. He took the letter in hand once again and rolled up the parchment. "I'm going to see if Skeeter has responded," he said, tucking the scroll away. "When I return, we'll begin our training session." As he exited the kitchen he called out over his shoulder. "Do try and stay put this time, Potter."

"Aye, aye, captain."

Snape rolled his eyes at the reply and exited the cottage. He Disapparated to the barn and searched for the barmy old owl. It hadn't returned yet, and he contemplated waiting a bit before going home. He wasn't sure he'd have the energy to return after his session with Potter.

As if summoned by the thought of Potter, the memory of Harry, half hidden in the shadows, stroking himself, looking like sin incarnate, rose to the forefront of Snape's mind. The vision was so clear it took a moment before he realized that he was in fact, still alone in the barn.

Alone and now aroused. Again.

"Cold day in hell before I do that again," he ground out, looking around him. There had to be something here that would distract his thoughts from Potter while he waited for the blasted fowl. Snape had to get out of here before he was unable to look the boy in the face ever again. But he couldn't exactly go home with a raging hard on that the brat would be sure to notice. Would probably even be watching for, the little prick.

He would give the owl, and his fantasies, five more minutes, then he was going home!

And he would be damned if he had a good wank while he waited. Contrary to popular belief, he had self-control!

Harry sat at the table with a small smirk wondering what Snape was doing in the barn that could be taking him so long. Half of him wanted to go and spy to find out, but doing that once was quite enough! Nope, he was content to just sit here and wait for him to return.

Perhaps his control had, in actuality, been overrated, because at the moment he didn't feel the least bit controlled and that worried him.

Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Snape Apparated back to the cottage. Once inside he found Potter still sitting in the kitchen. He could do nothing more than stare. But he wasn't seeing Harry; he was seeing Potter, tied to his bed with rope, while he teased every inch of skin with a leather strap, followed by his tongue.

Snape's breathing turned shallow as he stared at Harry. And the boy was just looking back.

"Have a good time?" Harry asked, the picture of innocence.

"Loads," Snape said sarcastically, moving to the stovetop and pouring himself some tea. "I enjoy sitting in a musty old barn, waiting for a daft owl that still hasn't returned."

He leaned against the counter and sipped his tea, trying to appear calmer and more in control than he felt.

Harry observed the adopted casual stance and smiled. He was curious about Snape's time in the barn, but he knew there was no hope of finding out. There was no doubt in his mind that Snape was lying to him, but for once he didn't mind it. Instead, he felt smug about it. "Pity. Now what do we do?"

Snape couldn't help but notice that Potter was looking quite pleased with himself. That wouldn't do at all. "Training," he said with a sickly smile. "I feel the need to vent some aggression, and it may as well be upon you," he said, pushing away from the counter.

"Gee thanks," Harry said sarcastically.

"My pleasure," Snape drawled, smirking. "Hurry up," he added, leaving the kitchen and heading towards their makeshift practice room.

Harry rolled his eyes, but his grin was a tad irrepressible, not that he was complaining. He didn't know where his good mood had come from and he wasn't about to question it either. Hopping to his feet, he followed Snape out of the kitchen.

"What are we going to work on?"

"Unforgivables," Snape replied, rolling up the cuffs of his shirt, but not enough to reveal the Dark Mark.

Harry nodded resolutely. They had done these before, but not often because they were draining and had knocked him out for a good hour. Harry really didn't fancy waking up and seeing the ceiling from the floor like that again.

"Which one first?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?" Snape replied, turning to face Harry. Once Harry had his wand in hand, Snape took his stance and yelled, "Crucio!"

Harry hit the ground and rolled as far away as possible before springing up and casting the curse at Snape. He bounced tensely from foot to foot waiting, and knowing that it wouldn't take long for retaliation.

Snape Disapparated, and reappeared behind Harry, hurling an Imperius curse at Harry that the boy easily shrugged off, returning fire with a hex of his own.

A half hour later Snape called a halt to their duel and both men stood panting, sweat matting the hair to their heads.

"Why are we stopping so early?" Harry asked, not taking his eyes off Snape in case it was some kind of trick.

Snape straightened and went to the door. He opened it and summoned a knife from the kitchen. He came back inside and stood beside Harry who was looking at him curiously. Snape held out his hand and ran the blade across his own palm, causing the blood to begin to ooze from the slice before pooling against his pale skin.

"Heal it," Snape said, watching Harry closely.

"What?" Harry asked, staring at him like he was insane.

"Heal it."

"You said that, but you cut yourself. Are you crazy?" Harry yelped, even as he moved forward with his wand gripped tightly in his hand. He carefully examined Snape's hand uncertain of how deep or shallow he had made the cut, before pressing the tip of his wand right above the cut. It wasn't too deep, but it certainly wasn't shallow.

Snape held back a flinch when Harry pressed his wand to the wound. He was curious to find out if Potter was still able to plumb that untapped reserve of magical energy.

Harry whispered the healing spell and began to focus on keeping his magic in check. He didn't want a repeat of last time. Last time had been, well, more than he could handle or wanted to handle again. Despite the knowledge that the magic was still all his, it had left him feeling vulnerable. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the skin on Snape's hand heal over and leave only the faintest of scars. He relaxed and attempted to break the connection, but it stuck.

Magic flowed freely from Harry into his wand and into Snape's palm. Harry said nothing. He refused to make mention of it until Snape did, because as long as Snape didn't notice that Harry couldn't break the connection, Harry could try to work it out for himself.

Snape could tell the moment Harry lost control and that was the moment he chose to strike. Shoving Harry backwards he raised his wand towards Harry, counting on the boy's instinct and training to kick in to protect himself.

"Crucio!"

Harry stood frozen for a moment before throwing his arms up to block his head. He knew in the back of his mind he should have ducked and rolled far away from the hazard, but the abrupt release from the healing spell left him reeling and it was all he could think to do. He tensed waiting for the excruciating pain to consume him, but nothing happened.

It took him a moment to realize that fact and when he did he opened his eyes and lowered his arms to see blinding white light. Before panic could set in, the white light faded. He stared pale-faced at Snape.

Snape was looking at Harry, his face a mask of awe and confusion. "What did you do?" he asked, searching Harry's face as if he would find the answer there. He had hoped for something to happen, but the fact that he had no idea what actually had happened left him off balance.

"I...I…" Harry stammered nervously, looking owlishly at Snape.

Snape moved and gripped Harry by the shoulder. "Think, Potter! What did you do? What spell did you use?" Snape asked, feeling as though they were on the verge of something important.

"I didn't do anything!" Harry finally managed to get out. It came across as a mix of yelling and yelping but it did what it needed to do. It showed his confusion. And gods, was he confused.

"Idiot," Snape growled, shoving Harry away in frustration. Of course he didn't have a clue what he'd done. He was Harry Bloody Potter! Things just happened!

"What did you expect me to say?" Harry snapped angrily, grabbing Snape by the arm. "You fucking threw Crucio at me and it disintegrated!"

"I expect you to know how you did it!" Snape yelled in return, shrugging off Harry's hand. "You just blocked an Unforgivable! Do you have any idea what that bloody means?"

"It means I'm fucking abnormal, that's what it means!"

Snape took a step back, looking at Harry blankly. "What does that have to do with anything?" he asked, his anger fading in his sudden confusion.

"It means that once again, there's something different about me," Harry bit out. "It means I have something else wrong with me. As well as having a fucking prophecy looming above my head I now have the uncanny ability to block two of the three Unforgivables. I can shake off the third. And I could produce a Patronus in my third year; I'd like to see other third years do that level of magic so young."

"So what?" Snape snapped. "Would you really rather be a Longbottom, causing havoc wherever you went? You have some kind of...power...that any wizard would kill for, and all you can do is complain about it instead of learning to use it in your favor! Good gods, Potter, if you can figure out how to replicate that little act, you might just survive this bloody war!"

Harry blinked slowly, feeling some of his anger bleed from him. "If you're fucking lying to me, Severus Snape, I swear to all things you consider holy, I will strangle you."

"Don't you get it, Potter? My survival is very much tied into yours, so you can be damned sure that when it comes to your survival I am speaking nothing but the truth!" he hissed. "If you...if we," he amended, "can figure out what you just did...gods, Potter! We might actually beat the snake-faced lunatic!"

An ear splitting smile stretched across Harry's face and that was the only warning Snape got before Harry jumped on him, wrapping his arms around his neck and letting out a joyous whoop. He might live! It was a thought he seldom had, it had always lurked as a possibility in the back of his mind that he wouldn't die, but with this, whatever it was, it might actually happen. If they could just figure out what it was.

Snape stumbled backwards the moment Harry decided to use him for a landing pad. "Potter, are you actually jumping for joy?" Snape asked, running a hand up and down Harry's back.

"Do you want me to lie to you?" Harry teased with a laugh.

Snape was grinning now. Actually grinning. If they could figure out how to repeat what Harry had done, they honestly stood a chance in this war. A chance against Voldemort. A chance to live!

Harry saw the grin and his smile widened to the point it should have hurt. They were going to live. Oh, stars! Harry laughed and leaned forward, kissing the corner of Snape's mouth. It didn't matter that just hours before they had been arguing, nothing from earlier really mattered.

"We're going to live," he stated, testing it out in the real air, his smile turning from crazy-happy to bemused and happy.

"Yes, we're going to live. If. If we can work out what the hell you just did. Unless we work it out, it's useless to us!"

It took Snape that long to register that Harry had kissed him. Kissed him of his own accord. He was suddenly focused on Harry's mouth.

Despite that hitch in the overall plan, Harry found himself still smiling broadly. It felt nice to think he was not going to die. He'd been thinking he had since fourth year: for almost three years now he'd been thinking he was going to die. And here he was, standing in a makeshift training room with Snape of all people, happier than he had been in a long time. He didn't even notice where Snape's gaze was focused.

"Sod it," Snape growled before grabbing the back of Harry's neck and pulling him to him. Sliding his fingers into Harry's hair, he leaned in and kissed the boy senseless. The kisses were demanding, devouring, and they were making his head spin.

Harry didn't even get the chance to be surprised before Snape's lips settled over his own. He gasped sharply, and his eyes opened wide in shock, before slowly drifting shut. He couldn't even bring himself to complain. Why would he?

If Harry pressed himself against Snape any harder, Snape was fairly sure he would embarrass himself. His hands slid down Harry's arms to his hips, locking them in place. Once Harry was no longer rocking against him, he could think.

Barely.

Harry whimpered, his hands gripping Snape's sweaty shirt tightly as he felt firm hands grab his hips preventing him from moving. His eyes opened slowly and locked with dark onyx. He swallowed convulsively, his tongue darted out wetting his suddenly too dry bottom lip.

"We have to stop, Potter," Snape rasped, leaning his forehead against Harry's so he didn't have to look into those all too open green eyes. Taking a deep breath, he stepped backwards, releasing his hold on Harry's hips.

Before Harry could react, Snape summoned the knife and sliced open his hand. "Heal it," he said softly.

Harry looked at Snape for a moment before bringing his wand back up to the same palm he had just healed only moments ago. He chanted softly under his breath, trying to regain control of his hectic breathing. Heat emanated from Snape and rolled into Harry, making him dizzy, but he kept up the healing spell watching as it set to work on the reopened wound.

"What if it doesn't happen again?" he asked shakily.

"Pay attention to what you're feeling, what's happening," Snape replied, his voice firm. "Don't fight the magic."

He watched Harry carefully, ignoring the sensations in his hand to focus on the wizard in front of him.

Harry nodded. "All right," he whispered, trying to pull his senses away from the man standing so near to his own body. Nothing felt strange or weird but then again, nothing bad ever happened until he attempted to finish off the healing spell. He dreaded what could happen if he couldn't learn to pull away straight away.

Snape saw the moment Harry's wand began to tremble. "I'm going to step away now, put up a shield," he said quietly.

Harry nodded, his teeth clenched.

Snape stepped back, his wand raised. "Crucio!"

Harry brought up his arms once again, fighting his instincts that were telling him to run, while trying desperately to grasp whatever it was he did before. He jolted from the power of the curse, but no pain followed. Slowly he lowered his arms only to see a weaker version of the last shield he had erected.

It took him a brief moment to realize that the shield had taken on a decidedly different quality this time. He tilted his head to the side as he looked around him and then over at Snape. The other man seemed to be glowing white.

"Uh," he said uncertainly.

Snape could feel the magic surrounding him, causing his hair to stand on end. "What did you do?" he asked in wonderment.

The glow around him faded and he looked at Harry speculatively. "Did you mean to do that?" he asked, frowning.

"I don't think so. I just hoped it would work again and it did, to a point. I don't know why it surrounded you too."

Snape was still frowning. "Try and find that place again, without the healing first," he said, stepping further away from Harry.

"Is that anything like clearing your mind in Occlumency?" Harry asked with a deep sigh, not even sure how to begin what he had to do.

"Let's hope not," Snape said, smirking.

Harry grinned at that. "Any idea of what I'm supposed to do then?"

"I haven't the slightest idea, which is why I told you to pay attention," Snape said, beginning to feel frustrated.

"That's the thing, nothing felt different!" Harry said angrily. "I couldn't sense anything different about me at all. And before you yell that there obviously is, I know."

Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Enough," he muttered, shaking his head. "We'll try again tomorrow."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Save the attitude, Potter," Snape warned tiredly.

Harry glared at Snape for a moment, before sinking to the floor. He folded his legs and rested his elbows on his knees. Shooting one last disgruntled look at Snape, he buried his face in his hands.

"And stop pouting," Snape said, feeling unaccountably guilty. "We have plenty more of my body parts to slice open until you work it out," he muttered sarcastically.

"Oh yeah, because I so enjoy that loss of control," he muttered, not raising his head.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Sulking in the corner will change nothing," he replied to the top of Harry's head. "I'm going to check the owl. Please be done with your sulk before I return."

"Yes, sir."

Needing space from Potter, Snape hurried from the room and outside the cottage to Apparate. When he reached the barn, the old owl was glaring balefully at him from the rafters.

"Don't you start sulking too!" Snape growled, holding out his arm for the owl to perch on. With a reproachful hoot, the owl swooped down and landed on his arm, digging its claws a little too forcefully into Snape's arm.

"Unless you wish to lose a limb, cease at once," Snape warned the bird, which slackened its hold and held out the leg with the rolled up parchment.

Snape took the parchment and the owl flew back to its perch in the old rafters of the barn. Snape unrolled the paper and looked at the quickly scrawled note.

Snape smiled. This was going to end, and soon.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

Harry swung his jeans-clad legs back and forth, his bare feet hitting the cabinets beneath him, while he watched Snape pace through the kitchen. Early morning sunlight trickled through the ratty old curtains that were just barely clinging on above the sink and splashed across the hardwood floor. The Prophet article posting his letter to Voldemort had gone out that morning and already they had received another paper with the population's opinions. Some had been mean and downright spiteful and now had completely disappeared from the opinion page; actually, there wasn't much of the opinion page left at all.

He couldn't help but think that people were overreacting. It wasn't like they were the ones calling Voldemort out. They weren't the ones who would eventually be risking their necks for the entire wizarding world. The only people who had the right to be angry with him at all were members of the Order and the one person pacing right in front of him. It kept him sane to know that at least one person would stick by him in the end, even though it left a slightly bitter taste in his mouth.

Snatches of jumbled phrases managed to reach Harry's ears from his place on the worktop next to the sink. It had been amusing at first to see how worked up Snape had become over some of the things being said about him, but this pacing was getting old. A half hour of pacing was far too much to endure at one time.

"You're going to get a nosebleed if you don't relax," Harry pointed out calmly. He had to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing when Snape froze mid-step and turned to look at him with an incredulous expression. Sometimes that man was just too much.

"What?" Harry asked innocently, earning a scowl for his efforts.

"Why on earth would I get a nosebleed?" Snape asked, baffled by the comment, which seemed completely out of the blue.

Harry let out a short bark of laughter, drumming his fingers on the ceramic counter top. "Some people, when under great stress, get nosebleeds."

"Good grief, Potter, this," he said, holding up the paper, "is extreme irritation, not great stress. And this Bethislda Whitbark is just plain idiotic." He slammed the paper down. "As if you were risking your life to set the stage to become the next Dark Lord! The woman is a daft bint, and I can't believe they would actually print her rubbishy opinion!"

"Because it seems to be the only opinion today," Harry said evenly, picking up the paper and scanning the letter. He snorted and folded it up before chucking it in the paper bin next to the fridge.

Snape stared at Harry in disbelief. Had he even read the article? He was sitting there so calmly as if it were just an ordinary day, not a day where he had called out the Dark Lord himself!

"Did you even read the things they're saying about you?" Snape growled angrily.

"Yes. It's nothing they haven't said about me since I was twelve. It gets old. Fast."

Snape scowled, but said nothing, choosing to continue his pacing. A moment later, Snape felt the tingling in his arm at the same time as Harry gasped and grabbed his forehead.

"I guess he's read it," Harry said through clenched teeth.

Snape clenched his forearm as the pain began to build. This was going to be bad for both of them. He grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him from the worktop.

"Hurry," he growled, pulling Harry after him towards the lab.

Harry stumbled after him, pressing his forehead into Snape's back, trying to ease the pain that was leaving him breathless. He should have known this would happen, he should have bloody well known better. A soft whimper crawled out of his throat and reverberated against Snape's shoulder blades. His hands were locked in fists tight against his sides.

Snape threw open the first cupboard in the lab and pulled down the potion he had prepared for a day like this. Harry was pressing his head into his back so hard that at any other time it would have been painful, but considering the burning pain in his arm, it was nothing.

Snape turned and forced Harry's head up, putting the potion vial to his lips. "Drink," he ordered, knowing that he was going to become useless himself soon.

He growled at the glazed-over expression in Harry's eyes and tipped the entire vial into the boy's mouth. He barely had time to make sure Potter had swallowed before the boy swayed forward and collided into him.

Gritting his teeth, Snape cast a levitation spell on Harry, and grabbed a different vial of potion from the cupboard. He moved Harry down the hall to the bedroom, unable to focus enough to keep Harry from bumping into the walls along the way.

Once he reached the bedroom, he allowed Harry to drop onto the bed before collapsing onto the other side. He set the vial of potion on the bedside table, and then curled into a ball, closing his eyes against the pain. The second potion would wake Harry up if he had to do so in a hurry, but otherwise, he'd let the boy sleep through the worst of it.

Unfortunately, one of them had to be at least conscious, and it was better that it was him rather than Harry. The potion should have put Harry deep enough that even the Dark Lord couldn't get into his mind. Snape moaned as another wave of pain coursed through his arm, setting fire to his nerves.

He could only hope the Dark Lord tired of this sooner rather than later.

He pressed his forearm desperately into his stomach as he rode out the pain. There was nothing he could do to stop it. He rolled onto his side, grabbing the nearest thing to him and pulling it as close as possible. He had to stay awake; he couldn't succumb to the darkness that lurked just at the corner of his mind. If something happened he'd never be able to forgive himself for it.

It felt like an eternity before the pain finally began to ease. Snape lay panting on the bed, his eyes closed, his mind trying to focus once again now that the blinding pain was gone. Once he was sure it was over, he'd wake up Potter. He pulled the pillow to him and waited for his breathing to slow. Just a few more minutes and he'd wake Potter.

He was asleep a few moments later.

* * *

Harry shifted uncomfortably; his lower lip trembled as he squirmed. "Let me go," he whined with a slur. He couldn't make his eyes open and there was something holding him down, keeping him still.

"Sod off," Snape growled, not quite aware of his surroundings. All he knew was that someone was talking and he was too warm and too tired to listen.

The words settled into Harry's fuzzy mind with a forced slowness. He tipped his head back and opened his eyes.

Oh. He stayed like that for a moment before dropping his head forward. Snape was holding him, snuggling with him was more appropriate. Like he was a big teddy bear. It was...warm.

Harry's fingers gripped the gray blanket beneath them trying to sort out his thoughts. His head ached something fierce, but it was better than earlier and that was all Harry cared about at the moment. It still didn't explain how he'd got onto Snape's bed, nor did it explain why Snape was cuddling with him. Something wasn't adding up, but his body was screaming at him not to fight it and just relax. But how could he? Snape of all the people on Earth was cuddling with him. It wasn't normal.

His body betrayed his own thoughts as he found himself sinking into Snape's grasp. This was wrong in so many different fucked-up ways that he couldn't even wrap his mind around them all. Cuddling indicated feelings and feelings were bad… very bad… very, very monstrously bad. They were so bad he was beginning to feel sick. He couldn't be thinking this was nice, he couldn't allow himself to. There were just too many factors against him developing anything towards Snape other than respect. They were going into battle soon, for fuck's sake!

There was very little chance he was going to fall back asleep.

The fact that his bed was...squirming, finally had Snape paying attention to his surroundings. He cracked open an eye to find two green eyes looking back at him. He couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why they were so damned close to his own.

"What are you doing?" he rasped.

"Fucked if I know," Harry croaked in return, before pressing himself forward, his lips lightly connecting with Snape's.

"I can't think when you do that," Snape said, frowning as his mind tried to put all the pieces together.

"Then don't think," Harry muttered, reattaching his lips forcefully.

"Okay," Snape murmured against Harry's mouth, still not entirely sure if he was awake, and at the moment not caring either way as long as Harry kept pressing against him that way.

Too many clothes stood in the way. Harry mindlessly swept his tongue across Snape's lower lip while his fingers frantically tugged at the buttons on the man's waistcoat.

Warning bells were beginning to sound in Snape's mind, but he ignored them. Despite what he had told Potter the day before, they probably wouldn't survive this war. Would it be so awful if they allowed themselves a brief respite of pleasure?

Yes! his mind screamed. But his hands were sliding under Harry's shirt and up his back, caressing the heated flesh.

Harry arched forward at the touch, seeking the warmth that Snape was providing, his fingers stilling on the last button as he keened in the back of his throat.

What was he doing? Did it matter? Would he hate himself later? He would hate himself later. Did it matter? Was it worth it? Would he be able to stand alone if necessary? Was it worth the risk? How much longer now? Too many questions buzzed in his head, each picking at the front of his mind, each a distinct reason for stopping his hands, for stilling his grinding hips; each was a way to tear through his arousal, and yet none of them stopped him.

The sound Harry made finally cut through the fog in Snape's brain, and he moved his hands to cover Harry's, squeezing them gently and pushing Harry back.

"Have to stop, Harry," he said, turning his head away from Harry's mouth before his kisses drove away his resolve.

Harry whimpered softly, eyes open and pleading and he had to bite back the urge to ask why. It took considerable effort to stop his hips' desperate seeking motion and even more to get himself to stop shaking.

"We're stuffed," he muttered, rolling over and curling into a tight ball.

Snape lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling for a moment, getting control of himself before turning to face Harry.

He placed his hand gently on Harry's back. "Yesterday, you were convinced we were going to live," he said softly.

"Yesterday the world made sense, didn't it?" Harry refuted, shivering at Snape's touch. "Doesn't make much sense now, does it?"

Snape flopped back down onto his back, swallowing thickly. "What doesn't make sense?" he asked, afraid he already knew the answer.

Harry grunted. "Us, everything." So what if he was being a little melodramatic, it got the point across, didn't it?

"It's all just a matter of circumstance, Potter. When this nightmare finally ends, you'll go back to Miss Weasley and this will all be just a bad memory," Snape replied, rolling off the bed and getting to his feet. He had no reason and no right to feel irritated, but he did.

"Who said it's bad? I never said bad; complicated, oh most definitely, but bad? I'd rather think not," Harry huffed, sitting up. "And I could have gone back already. Did I ever tell you what day it was that I went to the Weasleys'?"

Oh, it's bad, Snape thought ruefully. He tried to remember back to the day Harry went to the Weasleys' and do the sums in his head. When realization dawned, his eyes widened and he turned quickly to face him.

"The first day of term," he said, surprised it hadn't registered with him before. It had been ingrained in his head for so many years now that it was shocking that he had forgotten.

"I could have gone back already. I was given the option to leave and return to Hogwarts with my friends. But I didn't, did I?"

"Do you honestly believe you had a choice left?" Snape asked. "You're too noble to just walk away from this mess. If you'd any sense, you would have walked away and not looked back."

"I'm not going to win this argument, am I?" Harry asked tiredly. He eyed Snape and let out a self-defeating sigh. How do you convince someone your intentions are purely selfish when you've been spending the past week trying to convince yourself that they aren't? It wasn't done. And Snape being a stubborn git didn't help much either.

Why'd he have to suddenly be fascinated with Snape? Why couldn't he have stuck with Ginny? Ginny was nice, pretty. She smelled good, like strawberries; yet here he was sitting on Snape's bed in Snape's house in the middle of Ireland, trying to convince that same man that he was here for selfish purposes, not selfless. It made his head spin; why couldn't things have stayed normal?

"I'll be in my lab. You should eat," Snape replied. When he reached the doorway, he stopped. Without turning around he said, "I apologize for...that," a hand waving toward the bed. Before Harry could reply, he left the room and headed for his lab, needing space to think.

* * *

I apologize for...that. What did that mean? Harry's mouth hung open stupidly long after Snape had disappeared from sight. What had he meant? He snapped his jaw shut and scowled. It didn't matter, he told himself resolutely.

"What time is it anyway?" He muttered, pulling his wand out of his pocket. "Tempus," he intoned carefully. He stared at the numbers floating in front of him in confusion. 1:30? In the PM or the AM he wondered, standing up. He crossed the room silently, pulled back the curtains and blinked. It was pitch black.

Harry padded out of the bedroom into the chilled air in the hall. He crept along the hallway and into the kitchen. He ached all over and in places he shouldn't have. The space in between his toes hurt; he couldn't even imagine what Snape had to be feeling. Therefore, he was going to make tea. It was something to do. Mrs. Weasley had made it seem like a cure-all and perhaps it was.

He picked the metal kettle off the stovetop and walked over to the sink to fill it with water. Harry didn't want to imagine how Snape was faring in his lab. The man was insane. He placed the now-full kettle back on the stove and turned on the burner. What could he possibly be doing in the cellar at 1:30 in the morning that couldn't wait until morning?

* * *

Snape busied himself with making another cauldron of the potion he had given Harry. He was still aching and exhausted, but there was nothing for it. If he went to bed, he'd just stew and castigate himself and not sleep anyway, so he might as well be productive.

Snape made the potion by rote, hardly having to think about it at all. Instead, he thought of the days to come, wondering how long it would be until Voldemort made his decision. Now that Harry had discovered this ability to shield Unforgivables, he wished they hadn't sent off the letter yet. Would there be enough time to perfect it?

Snape bottled the potion, stacking the vials neatly on the shelf before stretching tiredly. Merlin, he ached! He left the lab and made his way upstairs. He could hear Harry puttering around in the kitchen as he quietly walked past.

He went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Removing his clothes, he stepped inside and slid down the cool tiles until he was sitting on the floor. He pulled up his knees, folded his arms across the top of them, and rested his head on his arms. Snape closed his eyes and let the hot water fall on his back, the steam surrounding him.

Snape finally raised his head, only to lean back against the tiles, letting the water cascade down his chest. He lifted his arm and watched the play of water against the Dark Mark. The rivulets of water seemed to make it move and dance across his arm.

Gods, how he hated the thing!

A permanent reminder of his own gullibility. His own foolishness. His arm dropped and he stared blankly at the tiles, his mind going over memories he wished he could forget.

Harry heard the shower turn on and frowned in concern and envy. The teakettle whistled and he pulled it off the burner and left it on the stove to cool a little. He pulled the same two teacups he always used off the shelf, running his finger over the chipped rim of one.

He poured the hot water over the tea leaves and added a little milk and sugar to his and just milk to Snape's. He cast a sustaining spell on Snape's, unsure of how long the man intended on showering. The hot liquid burned his tongue but felt delightful running down the back of his throat. He hummed with satisfaction, swirling it contemplatively, his mind blissfully blank.

Once the water began to cool, Snape forced himself to his feet. He ran the soap quickly over his body; though by the time he was done the water had become chilly. He was fairly certain that he'd spent more time in the shower in the last month than he had since he'd been a teenager and wanted somewhere to wank in peace.

Right now, he just wanted peace and solitude, and the shower seemed to be the only place he could get it. Turning off the water, he quickly dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist. With a quick look out the door to make sure Potter wasn't about, he covered the few steps to his bedroom and closed the door behind him.

Harry heard the bathroom door open, knowing exactly what Snape was going to do next. He didn't even have to leave the table he was leaning against to imagine Snape skulking through the hall to his bedroom and sure enough, he heard the telltale sound of the door shutting at the end of the hall.

He yawned widely, picked up the still-warm cup of tea and carefully made his way down the hallway. This seemed to be becoming something of a habit between them, it was almost domesticated. He knocked on the door to Snape's bedroom and stepped back slightly to wait.

"Just a minute," Snape called, pulling a shirt over his head before opening the bedroom door. Once again, he found Potter waiting for him with a cup of tea. "What is it with you and tea?" he asked, scowling at the cup.

"What is it with you and showers?" Harry shot back cheerfully, handing over the cup and pecking Snape on the cheek. "Good night."

Snape found himself blinking stupidly at Harry's back as the boy went to his room.

Did the brat actually just kiss him on the cheek?

Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, Snape took his tea and closed his bedroom door, planning on sleeping soundly until morning, which wasn't very far off now.

* * *

Morning came faster than either Snape or Harry wanted, but they couldn't just stay in bed forever. Or, at least, Harry didn't think so, and if Harry didn't think so then, he was fairly certain, neither did Snape.

He got out of his bed and headed towards the bathroom, intent on getting into the shower before Snape could get to it and use all the hot water again.

Snape was sitting at the table eating toast and going over the morning paper when he heard Harry get up. The Prophet's headline was, "Harry Potter, Courageous Hero or Nutter?" It was mostly a rehash of the day before, though there were a few comments from people who actually mattered to Harry, one of whom was Arthur Weasley, who implored Harry to: "come home and not do anything rash."

Did the man even know Potter? 'Rash' might as well be his middle name!

Harry leaned against the shower wall and closed his eyes tiredly. Another day, he thought idly as the water beat down against his side in a steady stream. He opened his eyes and stared at the shower curtain, trying to imagine if the day was going to be any different than the last couple of days. He doubted it though.

Stepping back fully under the water, he lathered his hair with Snape's shampoo, scrubbing away the previous day. He let the water run over him for another few minutes before turning it off and blindly groping for the towel on the washbasin. He toweled his hair and his face before wrapping the white piece of fabric around his waist and securing it tightly. Water clung to his hair and dripped down his back as he wandered towards the kitchen.

Snape was sitting at the table with a deeply amused look on his face. That wasn't normal.

"Anything good in the news?"

"You're either a hero or a nutter," Snape said, tossing the paper onto the table with an amused smirk. "I don't know why you can't be both," he added, taking a bite of toast.

"I take great offense at that, just so you know," Harry stated with false annoyance as he picked up the paper off the table. He scanned the headlines with amusement, but his smile faded as he got to the quote from Mr. Weasley. His gaze flickered over to Snape who was merrily, if Snape ever did anything merrily, munching his toast, completely unconcerned.

His gaze dropped to the table guiltily as he read the rest of the article. Once done, he abruptly pushed the paper away from him as if it burned.

Snape sighed as Harry forcibly shoved the paper away. "Come on, Potter, you had to expect that?" Snape said dismissively. He had expected some reaction from the boy, but he hadn't expected him to look like he'd just killed his friend's pet cat.

"I did, I just… did he have to word it like that?" he asked.

"Like what? Like you were an errant child unable to make a decision about your own life? Or death, as the case may be," Snape said, smirking.

"Like I had betrayed my family," he grated out, glaring at Snape.

Snape placed both hands on the table and got to his feet, moving his face within an inch of Harry's. "Your family, Potter, is dead. Voldemort killed them. You are avenging their deaths and making the world a much better place, and there is no shame in that," he said, though it came out more like growl.

Harry's eyes widened and he shrank into his chair. He couldn't respond to that, because what Snape was saying was true.

"But-"

"Merlin, Potter! You're old enough to make your own decisions, even stupid ones, which no doubt the majority of your decisions are," Snape said, returning to his seat and sipping his tea, never taking his eyes from Harry.

"Hey!" Harry yelped indignantly, momentarily shoving aside the rest of Snape's words. "I'll have you know some of my ideas are spectacular!"

"Name five," Snape said, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest.

Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times, before settling on a surly expression. He couldn't think of a good plan that Hermione hadn't orchestrated.

"So spectacular you can't remember them? They must have been truly amazing," Snape said, his dark eyes glinting with humor.

"Stuff it, you great git," Harry muttered, his lips twitching slightly. "I have a brainy know-it-all friend who does all the planning for me. A strategist. It's just safer to do as she says. You don't want her angry with you."

"Ah, the cleverly intolerable Miss Granger," Snape said, his lip quirking upward in a look a distaste. "Her plans weren't always that brilliant either."

"I'm aware of that," Harry answered. "But a lot of them were in theory, just not in practice. Especially when I get a notion in my head that something should be done differently."

"You're saying you're stubborn, Potter? I'm stunned, truly," Snape said, affecting shock.

"And you're a stuck-up prick, try to refute that," Harry shot back, finally smiling again.

"Why would I deny it when it's all a part of my charm?" Snape asked innocently.

Harry's hands itched at his side. He wanted to do something, something stupid that he would probably regret later. He supposed it was a good thing he didn't know what. He was restless.

"You have charm?" he asked off-handedly, trying to resist the impulse to do...whatever it was he was itching to do. He really rather wished that feeling would stop.

"Charm, boyish good looks, and a winning personality," Snape replied, his lip curling in amusement. "I'm quite certain I was a favorite of all my students. Oh wait, that was Lockhart, the bloody ponce," he finished, rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it all.

Harry snorted. "I never understood that, not at all."

"His utterly vapid nature was ignored because of his good looks," Snape said derisively. "The man was a fraud and an idiot and one of Dumbledore's bigger mistakes."

"See, that is what I didn't understand," Harry said gesturing with his hands in a confused manner. "Why did Dumbledore hire him, and if you say because of his looks I may have to go scrub my brain out with a Brillo pad."

Snape sighed. "I believe his reasoning was that Lockhart was harmless and considering Quirrell, we could have done with a little harmlessness. It's not like anyone lasted longer than a year."

Harry hummed thoughtfully. It was true. None of his professors had managed to stay in that position for more than a year. "Not even you."

"Dumbledore knew this all was coming to a head and he wanted me deeply entrenched with the Dark Lord," Snape replied, staring into his tea. "I was of more use to you there, better able to protect you."

Harry stared at him for a long moment. "Fat lot of good that did."

Snape met his eyes, cocking his head to the side to study him. "I daresay you're better prepared now than you would have been had the original plan worked out. So we'll work with what we have," he said, getting to his feet. "Finish your breakfast and meet me in the training room. We have work to do," he said, and swept from the room.

Harry sighed. He hadn't even started breakfast yet! He stretched out in his chair, flexing his toes. What did Snape really think they were going to accomplish? Unless there was a safe way to possess a person, he was never going to understand that when Harry said nothing felt different, he meant nothing felt different. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

"I told you! There's nothing!" Harry yelled in frustration.

"There must be!" Snape shouted back.

They had been practicing charms for hours, and Harry was no closer to being able to control his magic than he had been when they first started. He could only seem to bring up the shield if he was healing first, and it's not like he could just tell Voldemort, "Hold on a tick, just let me do this healing spell first!"

"There isn't!" Harry repeated, deliberately enunciating each word. "How many times do I have to tell you before you listen to me? I'm not speaking in tongues."

Snape paced in frustration. They were getting nowhere, only exhausting one another. He clenched his fists and shot a nasty glare at Harry. "Fine. You can't do it. We're wasting our time. We're as good as dead. Perfect!"

Harry snarled, his lips curling upwards in anger. "It's not like you're helping me! All you do is cut yourself open, demand I heal it, and then try to curse me! I don't know what to look for! I barely have any time to think!"

"Because if I don't slice myself open, when I curse you, you feel it!" Snape returned. "Believe me, Potter, I don't enjoy bleeding all over myself any more than you enjoy fixing it!"

"Then why do you keep doing it?"

"Because nothing else seems to work!" Snape snapped. He rubbed tiredly at the bridge of his nose. "God, we're going in circles."

Harry leaned against the wall and hit his head upon it. He stared at the ceiling for a brief moment before looking back over at Snape.

"Why does it only work with a minor healing spell? Is medi-magic different?"

"Not enough to make a difference," Snape replied wearily.

"But how do you know?" Harry queried pensively. "It doesn't work with other low level spells, just that one. We haven't even tried with higher level healing spells."

"Right, because you'll have time to get one of those off in a fight," Snape replied, rolling his eyes.

"Well, I'm sorry," Harry snapped, bristling angrily. "It was just a thought."

"I'm going to check the owl," Snape snorted before leaving the room and slamming the door behind him.

Harry slumped backwards, his back connecting with the wall again. Snape confused him; that was all he could think about. The man always wanted him to think for himself and when he finally did and he just completely blew off his idea. But at least he had tried to think about it.

It scared him that he didn't know something about himself. This was becoming worse than discovering he was a Parselmouth. At least then he got a name to his abnormality. Now… now he was just abnormal and Snape yelling at him didn't help at all. There was nothing he could do about it either. He was different, again, and despite Snape's words in the past few days, it still hurt. He was always the different one, 'special' some might call him, but he knew better. He was a freak, he was weird, an abnormality even in the wizarding world.

Time was growing short here. He knew it even without Voldemort's response. Then what? The battle would happen and he would either live or die and life would move on. But what if he lived? He had never let himself think about it before and he didn't want to think about it now. Never having made any solid plans for the future meant he was lost. He knew for a fact he didn't want to become an Auror any more. He never really had. Spending seven years of his life fighting a Dark Lord didn't make him want to continue doing so in the future.

When Snape returned he was holding a piece of parchment and a sealed envelope. "The Prophet was kind enough to forward this," he said, handing Harry the envelope with a sickly smile. "I tried to open it, but it's been spelled, I'm assuming so only you can open it," Snape added.

Harry swallowed nervously, fingering the envelope. Taking a deep breath, he tore it open and pulled out the parchment.

_Potter,  
I assume Dumbledore's traitorous lapdog is reading this as well, but no matter. My "sycophants" are just dying to spend some quality time with the miserable cur._

You wish to duel, Harry Potter? Then we shall. However, I am not foolish enough to believe that you would come alone, and therefore, my Death Eaters will be in attendance. They will, of course, be given orders not to interfere with you, only those you're sure to bring with you. When you die, Harry Potter, it will be by my own hand and none other; of this you can be certain.

No such clemency will be shown to dear Severus, however. My loyal followers will kill the coward on sight, after he has been made to suffer for his sins of course.

My father sends his regards, and wishes you to join him, Harry. Tomorrow, at dusk. We will be waiting.  


Harry, pale-faced, turned towards Snape. "Well..." He handed the letter over without another sound.

Snape took the letter, reading it carefully. By the time he was done, the parchment was nearly completely crumpled in his hand, his breath coming in angry little pants.

"Are you still going to come with me?" Harry asked, when all he wanted to do was tell Snape to stay. He didn't have to die needlessly.

Snape scowled at Harry. "Of course I am."

Harry nodded. He wouldn't argue. It would be pointless. "All right then."

"Did you honestly think I would leave you to blunder around on your own?" Snape asked, frowning now.

"No," Harry answered quietly, taking the letter back and smoothing it out. He reread the contents a second time, the knot in his stomach tightening painfully.

Snape's hand went to Harry's chin, forcing his head up. "I will not let you die, Potter," he said forcefully.

"It's not me I'm worried about," Harry mumbled, averting his eyes.

"The rest of the wizarding world will have to worry about themselves. You can't save everyone," Snape replied, wondering why Harry wouldn't meet his eyes.

Harry's gaze shot back to Snape's face. "Don't you get it?"

"Obviously not," Snape snapped, stepping backwards, looking at Harry in confusion. "Do enlighten me," he said, folding his arms across his chest.

Harry bowed his head in a mad attempt to recollect himself. "The rest of the wizarding world can go fuck themselves for all I care; it's you who I'm worried about."

Snape blinked stupidly.

"Me? What on Earth for?" Snape asked, truly confused now. "I've known for a long time what my fate would be in this, but I will not let it be yours."

Harry shook his head and took a step backwards. He didn't have the means to explain to Snape why it bothered him so much, because in reality it shouldn't bother him this much. Last Christmas he would have been more than happy to have heard of Snape's untimely demise, but now the very thought scared the piss out of him.

"Come on then," Snape said, sighing. "There's nothing left to be done here today. No reason to drain your magic any more than is necessary." Snape held open the door and waited for Harry to precede him out. He was going to have to come up with something to distract the boy until tomorrow evening, or they would both go mad.

Harry stepped into the hallway; the soft thud of the training room door as Snape stepped out and shut it echoed dully in his mind. Only one more day left now. He glanced over his shoulder once at Snape before heading towards the rarely used sitting room. Neither said one word to each other as Harry sat down on the wooden floor and Snape walked over to the fire grate and lit a fire.

After a long and uncomfortable silence, Snape asked, "Would you like to play chess?"

Harry blinked slowly before a small smile emerged. "All right. You're going to wipe the floor with me though."

"Obviously," Snape replied, as if it were a given. He walked to a small cupboard and pulled out a battered chess set. Looking around the room and finding nothing suitable, he transfigured a throw pillow into a small table. He went about setting up the board, turning the white pieces toward Harry. They were all looking up at him suspiciously.

"They're looking at me," Harry muttered, glaring down at the pieces before him.

"They know I seldom lose," Snape said, smirking. "It's pre-emptive pouting on their part."

"That's not even fair!" Harry whined, poking a knight and earning a very rude gesture for his trouble. "Just because I'm not of a strategic mind doesn't mean they have to sulk."

"This from the Boy Who Lived To Sulk?" Snape asked, amused. "Did I mention they don't like to be poked? I don't know how they became so surly," he said innocently.

"Disuse?" Harry volunteered off-handedly, rolling his eyes at the queen's snotty dismissal. "At least yours aren't charmed to talk."

"Perhaps," Snape agreed. "They were charmed to talk when I got them, but as they never had anything intelligent to say, I removed that charm," he said smugly, ignoring the pieces as they turned as one and gave him a two-finger salute.

Harry laughed, "Snotty little things aren't they. Will they even listen to me?"

"They will. Just be happy they can no longer call you names. They know words I don't think even Hooch would use," he said, nodding at Harry to make a move.

Harry pursed his lips, struggling not to laugh as the queen smacked the king's ear. "Pawn to E4."

The pawn moved sulkily to its spot, and glared daggers at Harry. "Hey, that's a standard opening; you can't glare at me like that!"

The pawn turned its back on him, folding its arms across its chest, ignoring Harry altogether.

"You're wasting your breath, Potter," Snape replied before ordering a pawn to the square directly across from Harry's pawn. The two pieces sneered at one another, and Harry laughed.

"That one learned that from you," he said, pointing to the pawn that looked particularly disgusted.

"I'm almost always black," Snape replied, smirking down at the board. "They feel a bit superior I'm afraid," he said, sighing dramatically.

"That's favoritism, your poor neglected white pieces," he mourned with a sorrowful sigh. "I think you're lucky they can't talk anymore, can you imagine what they'd be saying to you right now?"

"I imagine it would be much like what my students had to say about me," he said, smiling as his knight destroyed Harry's pawn. He leaned back in his chair and studied Harry. "Greasy git. Great bat. Sodding bastard. What am I forgetting?"

"That just about covers it; there might have been some mixing and matching of those names." Harry glared at the chessboard as his queen turned and silently began to castigate him as another pawn went to its inevitable doom. "So are any of the rumors true then?" he asked, smirking across the small table.

"Only the vampire one," Snape said quite seriously. "Though it's rot that we can't go out in the sun," he said, positioning his knight in such a way that Harry would lose either his Rook or his Bishop.

He was startled when Harry began to laugh and couldn't help but grin when the laughing continued. He felt absurdly pleased that he could make Harry laugh. His grin turned into a smile, and for a change, he didn't try to conceal it.

"You're smiling," Harry laughed, ignoring the impatient chess pieces as he tried to regain his breath.

"I am," he agreed, tilting his head and smiling at Harry. Tomorrow the boy might very well die, but for the moment, he was happy. Snape could give him very little, but he could give him this moment.

"You should do it more often."

Harry stared down at the chess board and sighed. He wasn't going to win this game, not that he'd expected to, but he hadn't thought he'd end up losing this badly. "I forfeit," he declared.

Harry's remaining pieces all looked at him with a mixture of relief and incredulity.

"You were checkmated in two moves anyway," Snape said smugly. "Another game perhaps?"

Harry shook his head ruefully. "You'd still win, where's the fun in that?"

Snape shrugged, hoping he didn't look as sheepish as he felt. "I wished to distract you," he said, putting the pieces back in their box.

Harry's smile faded a little, but not completely. "I had realised."

Snape stood, putting the chess set back in the cupboard. He walked to the sofa and sat down, staring into the fire. "That was the extent of my plan," he said, not looking at Harry. "I can give you a book, or a potion to make you sleep if you'd like."

"Can we just... talk?" Harry ventured, hoping that didn't sound as daft out loud as it had in his head.

Snape let his head fall against the back of the couch. "About?" he asked tiredly.

"Anything."

He looked up at Snape from his place on the floor.

Snape thought for a moment, searching for something neutral they could talk about. He could ask about Quidditch, but that would only highlight the fact that Harry was here, and not in school with the rest of his peers, so that was out. If he asked about his friends, that would be just as bad.

"Ah. Tell me about your Muggle relations," he finally said. That Harry wasn't on the best of terms with them was the extent of his knowledge on the subject.

"What do you want to know about them?" He couldn't say he was surprised by the question, and he had wanted to talk. There was also the fun factor of never having told anyone half of the things the Dursleys had done to him as a child if he died tomorrow. And if he did die tomorrow, he wouldn't care that he had told anyone.

"From the way Minerva spoke of them, they were ghastly," Snape prompted, looking at Harry with interest. "Nothing like your mother."

Harry shrugged. "My aunt was hopefully nothing like my mother. I'd like to think my mother wouldn't force me to learn how to cook at the age of five by burning my hands on frying pans, or trap me in a bathroom that I need to clean with ammonia in the cleaning solution."

Snape leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Surely you're exaggerating?" he said, frowning. This is where Dumbledore left the Boy Who Lived?

"I wish," Harry muttered as he drew his knees up to his chest and resting his chin on them. He exhaled slowly, wrapping his arms around his shins. "That isn't even half of what they did to me. But it wasn't really physical abuse; it was more mental, emotional even. Did you know I thought my parents had died in a car crash until Hagrid told me the truth?"

Snape found himself resisting the urge to card his fingers through Harry's hair. It's not as if the boy is a bloody cat! he thought. He had never been a person anyone came to in need of comfort. He was usually the one causing the discomfort.

"No, I wasn't aware of that," he said, clearing his throat and leaning back against the couch, his hands folded neatly in his lap.

"The Sodding-Boy-Who-Refused-To-Die didn't even know his own story. I think the words 'culture shock' don't quite express how I felt to have Hagrid barge into that little shack."

"Hagrid barging into anywhere would be enough to shock anyone," Snape said, smirking at Harry, "culture not withstanding."

Harry smiled. "It would at that. He was my first real friend in the wizarding world, even before Ron."

"Mine too, actually," Snape replied softly.

Harry cocked his head to the side, intrigued. "He was?"

"He tried to be, I wasn't exactly accommodating," Snape said, chuckling. "No matter how awfully I treated him – and I did treat him awfully – he still stuck up for me. When the other children would get particularly mean, he would stop it," Snape said, his voice still holding some small amount of wonder. He was lost in his thoughts for a moment before coming back to himself.

"When I returned to Hogwarts to teach, he was the first person, besides Albus, who didn't look at me with scorn or derision. There were times I hated him for it."

"You could hate him? Is that even possible? Hagrid's like a giant teddy bear."

"I can hate anyone, Potter," Snape replied, watching the flames dance in the fireplace.

Harry snorted. "Good point. This is you we're talking about here."

"Actually, we're talking about you," Snape said, forcing his memories away. "Or rather, your relatives. Would you curse them if you knew that you could do it with no repercussions?" he asked curiously.

Harry frowned and chewed on a thumbnail. Would he, given the opportunity? It was something he hadn't thought about in a long while. So long as he has something to lord over their heads, he was fairly content. But given the opportunity to inflict some of his pain back onto them...would he take that chance? "No."

"Hmm," Snape replied, not at all surprised by his answer. "I hope you don't mind if I do it myself," he said with an evil grin.

"You would?"

"You would let me?" Snape returned.

Harry shook his head. "No, I wouldn't."

"I thought not," Snape replied. "Don't worry, Potter, I find no pleasure in torturing Muggles," he said, rolling his eyes. "Students, however, are another matter."

Harry grinned. "Don't I know that." He stared at Snape for a long moment, before exhaling in a hiss.

"They locked me in a cupboard under the stairs." There, maybe he should have brought it up earlier, but better late than never.

"What?" Snape asked, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees once again. His father had often locked him in a dark closet when he was very young, but he had quickly learned to magic his way out. That, of course, led to worse punishment, but it was worth it just to beat his father at something.

"They wanted to stomp the magic out of me. I didn't know why they did it at the time but it was my bedroom: the cupboard under the stairs. My Hogwarts letter was addressed to that cupboard. They'd call me a freak and stuff me under there for days on end without much food. The only time I was allowed out was to go to the toilet."

Snape wanted nothing more than to get to his feet and pace, or throw something just to watch it break. Instead he sat, absolutely still, his own childhood memories threatening to overwhelm him.

When he finally felt able to speak, he said darkly, "I take it back. I would find great pleasure in torturing them."

Harry blinked uncomprehendingly. "Why?"

"You have to ask?" Snape snapped in reply. "They locked you in a ruddy cupboard, treated you like a house elf, and still you ask why?"

He knew his anger was on the far end of extreme, but his own memories were clouding his thinking. "I made my father pay for what he did," he hissed, before realizing that he had spoken aloud. He looked at Harry, mortified.

Harry stared at him. There was more information in that one sentence than Harry bet he could have received in a day.

"What did he do to you?"

"He could do what he wanted to me, and usually did, but he never should have laid a hand on my mother," he said angrily, not willing to speak of his own personal demons.

"Oh." Harry stared at him for a long moment, before crawling up onto the couch and settling beside him. Snape glanced at Harry for a moment, stiffening in his seat. Harry, sensing this, scooted away to the other end of the couch and drew his legs up again.

Harry recalled all the things he had learned the year before about Snape's mother and winced. It made his brain hurt to think about it. "I'm sorry."

They sat in awkward silence, both looking into the fire, caught up in their respective pasts. "So, uh, do you like Quidditch?" Harry asked, desperate for anything that would break heavy quiet.

Snape looked at him, and the scowl left his face to be replaced by a bemused expression. "Next you'll be asking me about the weather, won't you?" Snape asked, his lip twitching.

Harry scowled. "If it keeps the silence away."

Snape raised an eyebrow questioningly, before thinking the statement through. The boy had said he wanted to talk; there must have been a reason behind it, one that he was missing.

"Fine," he drawled slowly. "I tolerate it."

Harry grinned at that. "I knew you must have. You are a fair flier. Why else would you have been a referee at one of our games?"

"Flying is different than Quidditch," Snape answered. "I love to fly, and I'm more than fair," he added, smirking. "The only reason I had to referee that game was because the Headmaster was worried for you safety. As usual."

Harry gave a self-deprecating smile. "I'm sure he was. Bet you had loads of fun trailing after me and making sure I didn't lose a limb or my life."

"And I did so more times than you can imagine," Snape said, shaking his head. "The times you walked blindly into danger, thinking your blasted cloak would be enough to protect you. I can't believe you made it through school at all."

"Sometimes I don't believe it either," Harry murmured quietly. His thoughts drifted idly through the past seven years, getting caught up at the end of fifth year. A slight tremor passed through his body and he quickly squashed it. "I'm sorry." He chuckled roughly, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "I seem to be saying that a lot today, aren't I?"

"What is this obsessive need to apologize, Potter?" Snape asked curiously. "Particularly about things that cannot be changed."

Harry raised his eyes to meet Snape's. "Don't know, it just feels like it needs to be said."

Snape met Harry's gaze and nodded briskly. "Then consider it said, and stop apologizing.

Harry couldn't help but feel he was back in class getting a lecture.

"Yes, sir," he replied with mock seriousness.

"Idiot," Snape muttered, resting his head against the back of the couch and staring at the ceiling.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"I daresay you can, as you just did," Snape replied, turning his head toward Harry, but not bothering to lift it from the couch.

"Do you think I'm going to die tomorrow?"

Snape sighed. He considered lying, but dismissed the idea just as quickly. "It is possible that you will die, yes," he said, shifting himself so that he was facing Harry. "However, I plan to do everything in my power to assure that doesn't happen." He locked his eyes onto Harry's. "You will live, and you will defeat the Dark Lord." Snape reached out and squeezed Harry's shoulder. "Look on the bright side," he said, removing his hand. "If you do die, you won't be alive to regret it."

Harry laughed and offered a weak smile. "Suppose so. Still..." He sighed, already missing the subtle pressure on his shoulder. He shifted closer to Snape and hesitantly rested his head on the man's shoulder. He tensed, waiting to see if he would be shrugged off, but nothing happened. Harry relaxed and let out another soft sigh. He seemed to be doing that a lot recently as well.

Snape had to resist the urge to rest his cheek against the top of Harry's head. The contact felt nice, natural even, which was something he could seldom say. Silence descended once again, but it wasn't oppressive like it had been earlier.

Snape cleared his throat. "May I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, go ahead," Harry murmured, almost afraid to move too much and have Snape brush him off.

"Why did you allow me to kiss you?" he asked softly. And why in the name of Merlin did you kiss me back?

Harry worried his lower lip for a moment, attempting to work out his thoughts. Why had he let Snape kiss him? It seemed an awfully strange thing to do. But, there was no denying he had wanted it, had yearned for it even. He didn't back down from it either.

"I wanted you to," he finally answered, waiting for the fallout from admitting it.

"Yes, you've said that, but why?" Snape repeated. "I can hardly be confused with Ginny Weasley," he said with a snort.

"I don't know. If I did I would give you a new answer, because that's all it comes right down to. I wanted you to kiss me and you did."

"I see," Snape replied, though in truth, he didn't see at all. Though God knew that he had done some strange things during the first war, things he was embarrassed to even think about now. He supposed that was what this whole situation would turn out to be for Potter. Just a memory of a strange and difficult time in his life.

Snape had to admit, at least to himself, that the thought made him sad.

"And I haven't thought of Ginny...like that," he added. "Not since the end of the school year."

Snape finally looked at him, surprised. "Why ever not?"

"After Dumbledore died, I pushed most of my friends away, including her. Even though she helped me pack to come and find you I never felt more towards her than brotherly affection. I just never thought about it until recently."

Snape thought for a moment. "Is it just recently that you thought about kissing another man?"

"Yeah, can't say I thought about it before now." Harry shrugged lightly, tilting his head so he was staring at Snape's cheek. "Course, I also thought kissing was wet as well."

"I think I was just insulted," Snape said, frowning slightly. He'd never been complimented on his kissing prowess, but he'd had no complaints either.

Harry grinned and actually laughed. "Not you. Kissing you was...never mind. I meant my first kiss. She was crying; it was wet. I didn't particularly care for it."

"Your first kiss cried on you?" Snape asked, trying not to chuckle. "Even for you, Potter, that's bizarre." He was silent a moment before asking, "So, kissing me was...what, exactly?"

Harry flushed. The bugger had a one track mind sometimes. Why couldn't he leave well enough alone?

"Nice, very nice."

"I see," Snape replied, feeling just a bit smug. As he tried to find something other than Harry to look at, he realized that the room had grown darker as they talked. It was dusk outside.

"What would you like for dinner?" he asked, deciding it was time to change the subject to a safer topic.

"Do we have any minced beef?" Harry asked.

Snape considered the question, his mind running through the items in the freezer. "I believe so."

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Do we have the ingredients for cottage pie?"

"Yes. Come along then, you can chop the vegetables," Snape replied, getting to his feet and leading Harry to the kitchen.

As far as last meals go, they could do worse than cottage pie.

* * *

Harry stared into the flames of the crackling fire with a small frown. His chin rested on one hand as he watched ash leap from the fire and disappear. By this time tomorrow he could be dead. This time the next day he could be another of the numerous tragedies in the war. He cringed choking back the bile that rose up his throat.

There had been a time when he was emotionally ready to die, but in the past few weeks he had been happy. He was happy with his life; he was excited about things again. He hadn't resigned himself to a hopeless fate. But that hopeless fate was staring him down now and he felt faint. His stomach clenched and knotted and he broke out into a cold sweat. He didn't want to die.

"Potter."

Harry blinked and looked up to see Snape staring at him from the doorframe.

"Yes?"

"Would you like something to help you sleep?" he asked, frowning.

He'd been watching Harry from the doorway for quite some time, and he could almost track his thought process by the tension in his body. At the moment, he looked pale and sick.

Harry shook his head, tightly clasping his hands to prevent them from trembling. "Leaves me feeling groggy the next morning."

Snape entered the room and sat down on the couch. He looked down at Harry who was sitting on the floor, his head level with Snape's knees.

"If you plan on vomiting, please refrain from doing so on my shoes," he said with a small smile.

Harry shakily grinned and scooted backwards until his back hit Snape's legs. He was trembling and he had no qualms about letting Snape know it either. He was nervous, scared senseless and if he did vomit it wouldn't be the first time on that floor. He swallowed convulsively, his own saliva getting caught in his throat. There came a point where he thought he might have been crying, but he couldn't get his hands up to his face to find out. He leaned his head sideways and back so it rested against Snape's knees.

Snape could feel Harry's body trembling and felt completely helpless to do anything about it. He wasn't equipped to offer comfort and platitudes. The Slytherins never expected it from their Head of House, and they never got it from him.

Feeling awkward, he reached out and let his hand rest on Harry's head, gently massaging his scalp with his fingers.

Harry leaned into the touch mewling softly. He looked up at Snape beseechingly. He wanted to go and curl up in Snape's lap and hide. It was completely childish, but the world was suddenly way too big. He suddenly felt his size: tiny and weak. Distress ripped through his remaining shields and left him a stranded little boy.

"Bloody hell," Snape muttered, grabbing Harry by the collar and pulling him onto the couch.

Harry didn't make a sound as he cuddled as close to Snape as humanly possible. His entire side was flush against the other man, one of his hands wrapping around Snape's waist. He didn't want to think any more. He wanted to sleep. He needed sleep, rest-filled, real sleep, not a potion induced stupor.

"Read to me?" he pleaded.

With Harry practically molded to his side, Snape couldn't get up to get a book. Looking over his bookshelf, he summoned Magic Runes: A Beginners Guide, opened it to a random page and, putting an arm around Harry, began to read.

Harry closed his eyes, his head resting against Snape's chest. He grinned faintly as he listened to the deep baritone voice reading the passages about ancient runes, another one of those subjects that might have been interesting at any other time, but now only served to pull him under.

Snape's hand was gently, curling at the base of his neck playing with his hair. He doubted the older man even knew he was doing it and Harry wasn't going to draw attention to it.

Snape looked down after twenty minutes of reading. He had felt Harry slacken as sleep finally consumed him. He shut the book softly and set it down on the side table beside him.

With nothing to distract his own mind, he began to think about tomorrow. They still had to discuss how things were going to work, but he didn't think Harry needed anything more to think about tonight.

Snape looked down at Harry, watching as his long fingers carded slowly through the boy's hair. He could understand Harry's fear all to well. He was too young to have the weight of the wizarding world on his shoulders.

His hands trailed lightly across the top of Harry's back, mentally measuring the width of his shoulders. They weren't wide, but they were strong. Snape hoped they were strong enough to deal with what was ahead.

"Bloody brilliant plan, Albus," he said softly, wishing not for the first time that Dumbledore was alive and orchestrating all this instead of him. Hell, at the moment he wished he could just curl up in Dumbledore's lap and forget about it for awhile.

He smiled at the absurd image. If only it were that easy.

Time passed slowly around them, going unnoticed by both of the men on the couch. Snape couldn't be sure how much time had passed since Harry had fallen asleep, but he was growing tired of staring into the fire.

"Potter," he muttered, shaking Harry gently back into wakefulness. "Potter, it's time for bed."

"Don't wanna," Harry mumbled, curling into Snape's chest like a small child.

"Potter, I will not carry you. Now wake up."

Harry cracked open an eyelid to glare up at him. He raised an eyebrow in amusement as Harry sat up sullenly, but it faded as he finally got a good look at the boy.

"What is it?" he asked, dreading the answer.

The raven-haired boy's eyes widened minutely. "Can I sleep with you tonight?" Harry asked in a rush. And before Snape could even begin to tell him 'no', he continued: "I just don't want to be alone."

"That would be..." inappropriate. Wrong. Indecent, "…fine," he finished lamely.

Harry attempted to smile before heading sluggishly towards Snape's bedroom. He could feel Snape following right behind him. He stood by the dresser as he waited for Snape to yell at him to get out. He hadn't expected the man to give in so easily, but then, maybe he wasn't the only one needing human contact. While it had always been a threat in the back of his mind, since that afternoon it had become painfully clear that Snape's life was in as much, if not more, danger of being terminated than Harry's. It sent an unpleasant jolt through him and the need to just touch Snape became overwhelming.

He couldn't deal with this. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever. He squashed down all his feelings until he became numb. Emotion wasn't in the equation, and couldn't be brought into it either. It wouldn't change the outcome of tomorrow; examining his emotions would only make things worse.

Snape was watching him carefully; Harry could feel his dark gaze penetrating his skull as if trying to read his mind without using Legilimency. His dull green eyes flickered up for a brief moment, before he closed them and raised a hand to stifle a yawn.

"Get into bed before you fall over," Snape said, his nervousness coming across as irritability. Harry flinched, and Snape forced his voice to a more normal level. "I'll be there in a moment, I'm just going to lock up the house," he added more gently.

Harry nodded and walked toward the bed and Snape left the room, castigating himself for agreeing to this. He wouldn't back out now; the panic on Harry's face made it evident that if he didn't allow the brat to stay, the boy would not sleep at all and be useless tomorrow.

At least that's what he told himself. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he didn't want to be alone tonight either.

Snape walked through the house, turning off the lights and extinguishing the fire. The doors and windows were already locked tight and warded, but he checked them anyway, needing a few more minutes alone.

He went to the bathroom and went through his normal nightly routine before returning to his room. Harry was in his bed, lying right up to the edge, curled up into a ball as if trying not to take up any space. The covers were pulled up to his neck and clenched tightly in his hands.

Rolling his eyes, Snape moved to the other side of the bed and sat down, toeing off his shoes before lying down on his back on top of the covers.

Harry stayed perfectly still as he felt Snape settle beside him. He pulled the covers up a little tighter to his chin, trying to remove the ever-present chill. Idly, he wondered if maybe he'd made himself sick from stress and nervousness.

Snape idly wondered how in the world he was supposed to sleep with the ball of nervous tension next to him. At this rate, nobody was going to get any sleep tonight.

Snape rolled onto his side and tugged at the back of Harry's shirt. "Come on, Potter," he said tiredly.

Harry scooted backwards soundlessly, before attempting to relax just a little. "Sorry."

"What did I tell you earlier?" Snape groused even as his arm draped across Harry's waist and pulled him even closer.

Harry mumbled something incoherent as his breathing evened out. Snape stared at Harry for a long moment before raising his wand and muttering, "Nox," he drowned the room in darkness.

Snape could still feel the tension coming from Harry, so he hugged him tighter and began to speak. "Aconite, also known as wolfsbane and monkshood..." he began, tucking Harry's head under his chin. His voice droned on, listing potion ingredients and their properties. It was something he normally did in his head to help himself fall asleep, and speaking them aloud was just as soothing.

By the time he had finished the Bs, Harry was breathing slow and steady next to him. By the time he reached the Es, Snape's voice had begun to slur a bit, and he stopped speaking aloud. He got as far as the Ls before he drifted off to sleep.  



	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Snape awoke well before dawn with Harry practically curled up on top of him like a cat. At least that explained why he was so stiff this morning. He couldn't complain though. He couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up with someone else in his bed. It was surprisingly...cozy.

"It's a good thing I'll be dying today or I'd have to kill myself," he muttered quietly, causing Harry to shift a bit in his sleep.

Snape laid a hand on his back and Harry sighed and became still once more. If only he were that easy to control when awake.

It came to him there in the pre-dawn light, what he needed to do. Snape had planned to go down fighting by Harry's side, but he knew now that it would be hopeless. With his former associates attempting to kill him, and Voldemort attempting to kill Harry, they would be outnumbered, and Harry wouldn't stand a chance. Snape couldn't take the chance that Harry would be killed in the crossfire.

He stared at the darkened ceiling, the black turning to grey as the sun began to rise.

Snape had promised Harry that he would be there, and that he would do everything in his power to protect him. Unfortunately, that meant he would have to sacrifice himself to do so. Not because it was noble, or just, or any other sanctimonious term, but because it was their best chance at survival.

He couldn't tell Harry his plan or it would never work, or even worse, the Dark Lord would read the boy like an open book. Snape was going to have to take the risk and hope that Harry could do what needed to be done when the time came.

Whatever the outcome, Harry was going to be angry with him, but if all went well, at least the boy would be alive.

That was the whole point, wasn't it? Dumbledore's ultimate goal. Kill Voldemort and ensure that the Boy Who Lived became the Man That Survived.

Snape continued staring at the ceiling, his mind going over the small details while Harry slept.

It was an hour later that Harry began to stir again. Snape tensed his hand pausing on Harry's back mid-stroke as sleepy green eyes met his.

"Wha' happened?" Harry slurred tiredly, making no effort to move from his spot practically on top of Snape.

Snape met his eyes and held back a grin. "The war is over, Longbottom is a potions master, and your breath doesn't smell like something died in your mouth."

"You're awfully cheerful this morning," Harry muttered thickly, rolling off Snape before sitting up. "And you're one to talk about morning breath. It smells like you ate compost."

Snape ignored him, swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He stretched, trying to restore the blood flow to his joints.

Harry didn't say anything but stood up and went towards the bedroom door. He paused at the door and turned around, biting his bottom lip.

"Severus…" Stars that still felt awkward, but it was an attention grabber. He saw Snape's eyes shoot over to him. "Thank you for letting me stay."

Snape nodded and turned away, knowing that if they actually talked about it, things would become awkward. He went about straightening up the bed until he heard the bedroom door close behind him.

Harry glanced back at the closed door before heading towards his own room. He fell upon his bed with a heartfelt sigh. He wasn't really tired; he just didn't want to be awake. He didn't want to face the day. He curled into a ball on the bed, facing the window. Sunlight streamed in making it impossible to do anything but think, but he refused to do so. Thinking only led to disaster and he couldn't afford more than one that day.

Once Snape was dressed and ready for the day, he left his room and went to the kitchen to put on tea. Not seeing Harry, nor hearing any movements, he went to Harry's room and pounded on the door. "Stop stewing and get up!" he called, grinning when something hit the door with a thud.

"Go away! I enjoy stewing."

"You annoy me when you stew," Snape yelled back. "Now get your arse out of bed!"

"What's the point?"

Rolling his eyes, Snape opened the door and stepped inside, scowling at Harry who was face down on the bed with his face buried in his arms. "The point, Mr. Potter, is that you need to eat something," Snape replied, picking the pillow up off the floor and tossing it onto the bed.

The pillow landed on Harry's back. He turned his head so he could see Snape. "Not hungry."

Snape shrugged. "That does not matter in this case. You're going to eat," he replied, trying to act as though this was a typical morning, and not the worst morning of Harry's life.

"Bugger off, Snape," he grumbled, burying his face back in his pillow breathing heavily.

Snape considered his options. He could have a brooding, upset Harry on his hands, or an angry Potter.

He chose angry.

"Just because you have a difficult task of ahead of you is no reason to sulk like a child," he said, masking his concern with irritation. "You will get up, you will eat, and we will discuss what is to be done. You have two minutes, Potter!" he finished, turning on his heel and leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.

Harry winced and then relaxed. Smashing, simply smashing! Snape was angry at him now. He sat up and rubbed his forehead tiredly. Snape was right though; they did have things to discuss. Hiding in his room wouldn't delay what was about to happen. It wouldn't slow down the inevitable. He'd probably just end up working himself up so badly he got sick.

He stood up and exited the bedroom making his way towards the kitchen before sitting down hard in his chair. He barely noticed when Snape shoved a cup of tea into his clenched hands.

"Just try some toast, it will help settle your stomach," Snape said, sliding a plate of toast towards Harry. "Then we'll work on the eggs," he added, smirking.

Harry attempted to give a wan smile as he picked up a piece of toast and bit into the corner of it listlessly.

"Would you like me to dip it in tea and spoon feed it to you?" Snape asked with an innocent smile.

"Stuff it, Snape," Harry said with a tiny but genuine smile as he took a sip of the now tepid tea.

Snape nodded in satisfaction. "An insult followed by a smile. Now I know you're feeling better," he said, moving to the stove. He grabbed the handle of the pan and walked to the table, sliding some eggs on to Harry's plate, and some on his own, before returning the pan to the stovetop.

Harry poked at his food with his fork, pushing it around the plate. With his other hand, he was tapping the table, and Snape could see his leg bouncing up and down under the table.

Taking his free hand, he reached across the table and placed his hand over the hand Harry was tapping with. Harry looked up at him, surprised, but Snape remained focused on his eggs, seemingly ignoring the fact that he was holding Harry's hand.

Harry stared at Snape for a few moments before taking the subtle hint and continuing eating. He turned his hand over and laced their fingers without once looking up from his plate of bland food. He couldn't recall the last time someone had gone out of his or her way to make sure he ate food. Hermione had certainly tried, but she neither had the will nor the power to force him to chew it.

Once Harry had finished his eggs, Snape released his hand and nodded in satisfaction. "We need to discuss what is going to happen later," he said, willing to broach the subject now that the boy had food in him. By the time they were done, he probably wouldn't eat a thing for the rest of the day.

Harry's fork clunked dully onto his plate as he glanced up at Snape from beneath his black fringe.

"You mean we might actually have a plan going into this?" he asked aiming at humor.

Snape smirked. "I'm fairly certain that whatever plan we have in place will go pear-shaped anyway, but one should always have a plan on the odd chance it actually works."

"And it won't work if you don't tell me," Harry pointed out, draining the rest of his tea.

"You still have your cloak, correct?" Snape asked.

"Yes, it's in my bag in my room," Harry answered uncertainly.

"I'm going to need it," Snape said, sipping his tea calmly.

"What for?" Harry asked suspiciously. Snape was being far too calm for his liking and he was itching to shake him.

"Because I will be going ahead of you and I think it would behoove me to have some added insurance so I am not seen," Snape replied. "I will be of little use to you dead."

"You'll be of little use to me if you go and get caught, even with the cloak," Harry pointed out feeling uneasy about the entire idea. What the hell did he mean "insurance"? Insurance from what? What was Snape thinking of doing?

"I have no intention of getting caught, Potter," Snape replied archly. "I have not spent half of my life as a spy, only to be discovered at the most inopportune time imaginable."

"Good for you and your intentions," Harry grumbled, his fingers gripping the edge of the table as he pushed his chair out then pulled it back in.

Snape scowled. "Potter, I promised you that I would do whatever it took to ensure your survival tonight and I plan to do exactly that. The only reason I will not go into specifics with you is because we cannot be sure that the Dark Lord will not try and glean our plans from your mind," Snape said patiently.

His dark eyes locked with Harry's. "I need you to trust me."

Harry stared at Snape for a long moment, before lowering his eyes to the tabletop. "All right, but just so you know I'm still unhappy."

"I'd be worried if you found this enjoyable," Snape replied dryly. "I know the Dark Lord very well, and I plan to use his own arrogance against him. I'm sure you have noticed his habit of making speeches instead of immediately doing whatever needs doing," Snape said, watching Harry carefully.

Harry snorted. "You mean the ones where he rubs it in that power will triumph over good and that you shall die now and then he'll talk to his Death Eaters about how grand he is for finally capturing you and then he'll proceed to mock you for being weak?"

Snape arched a brow and said nothing.

Harry smiled innocently. He could pretend, just for a little while, that today was going to be like all the others. "Yes, I know of them."

"Then you also know that while he is pontificating on his masterful grand plan," Snape said, smirking, "it will be the perfect opportunity for me get in the optimal position to help you when the time comes."

"Ah, so your plan is to get me captured and force me to listen to the snake-faced bastard while you bide your time."

"If you get captured, then this will all be for nothing anyway," Snape replied. "His intention is to kill you, which means he will play with you first, like a cat with a mouse. It would help if you kept him talking without provoking him to kill you right away, and we both know you're capable of angering anyone to kill you," Snape said, grinning.

"Stuff it, Snape," Harry mumbled good-naturedly. "If you had wanted to off me so badly you could have done so with a potion years ago."

"What makes you think I didn't try?" Snape asked, his brow arched in question.

"Because you're a master, not a student, and if you had wanted to slip me some without anyone noticing you could have."

"You're brighter than you look," Snape said, something resembling a smile softening his features.

Harry looked up at Snape and froze in surprise. He was smiling, affectionately, at him. Had he just complimented him? "I think you just complimented me," Harry said shrewdly. "Did you mean to?"

"You should know by now, Harry, that I mean what I say," Snape said. "Most of the time anyway," he added, smirking.

"And you called me Harry. Well, two can play at that game, Severus." Harry folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "So, what do you mean 'most of the time'?"

Snape imitated Harry, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. "It means that the rest of the time, I'm lying through my teeth."

"Ah I see, so I should never take you at face value again. Excellent." Harry grinned.

"You would be a fool to do so," Snape replied, smirking.

Harry's eyes narrowed thoughtfully and he tapped his chin. "So, what exactly have you been lying about?"

Snape thought for a moment. "Ask me that same question tomorrow," he said, his face growing serious once again.

"We might not be sitting here tomorrow," Harry said just as seriously.

"I have every intention of being here tomorrow, as will you," Snape said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, his eyes wide. Damn, Harry thought eyeing Snape across the table. With an attitude like that Snape might just make it through the ruddy battle with all his sanityand life intact.

Snape nodded. "That having been said, I expect you to do your part to ensure that happens. You've got to remember what you've been taught. Keep moving, focus, and do not let the Death Eaters distract you. Above all, follow your instincts," he said. "They've managed to keep you alive this long."

"I thought it was only luck that had saved me so far."

"It certainly doesn't hurt to have some," Snape replied sarcastically.

Harry rolled his eyes and leaned forward against the table. "So that's it then? I just keep him talking and pray that whatever has been keeping me alive this long continues to hold out?"

Again, Snape mirrored Harry, and leaned forward against the table. "I would hope that at some point you manage to kill the man."

"Well, yes, that's the whole bloody point isn't it?" Harry grumbled. "I get to kill some bloke who's fifty years older than me who kicks puppies and decapitates dandelions for fun. It's a really clever plan. Brilliant in fact. Absolutely fan-fucking-tastic."

"Decapitates dandelions?" Snape asked, his lip curling into a smile before breaking out into genuine laughter.

Harry scowled darkly at Snape but it didn't last. It quickly morphed into a smile. "Well, he'd be the type," he mumbled with a chuckle.

Snape only laughed louder. "Of all the hideous things he's done," he said, gasping for air, "You're worried about the poor dandelions?" he asked, attempting to gain control of himself, but failing miserably.

"Shut it! I was trying to prove a point and you ruined it." Harry frowned, or tried to frown through his own laughter.

Snape lay his head down on the table, unable to look at Harry without laughing. It felt so odd. It had been more years than he cared to count since he had genuinely laughed this hard. The muscles in his face hurt. It struck him then, that this was more than likely the last day of his life, and he was laughing.

Snape raised his head and looked at Harry. "Thank you," he said, smiling.

"For what?" Harry asked with a confused smile.

"It doesn't matter," Snape replied, his eyes softening as he looked at Harry. He stared at him, taking in his features, his unruly hair and his green eyes, shining with curiosity.

Harry tilted his head to the side with a bemused expression. He adjusted his glasses that were slipping down the end of his nose, before smiling lopsidedly at Snape. He searched Snape's face curiously noting the almost affectionate look in his eyes. It startled Harry and his bemused expression became confused and thoughtful. Snape was staring at him with something other than amusement or anger. Why? What had he done to elicit that reaction? Was it just because of what was going to happen tonight?

His stomach contracted at the thought. No, he had told himself he was going to pretend. It was still early morning, and he still had plenty of time to pretend.

As if reading his expression, Snape softly said, "Whatever it takes, you will come out of this alive, Mister Potter. Whatever it takes."

Harry gave him a wan smile. "But..." he trailed off with a sigh. What a stupid thing to ask, he couldn't ask that. He wouldn't ask that… Snape would bite his head off.

"I miss my friends," he murmured, switching topics before the other one could even get off the ground.

Snape frowned, momentarily caught off guard. "You'll see them tomorrow," he said, realization hitting him all at once. If they did both survive, which was highly unlikely, but if they did Harry would go back to his life and he would go back to...what?

"No, not in that way. I miss knowing they were somewhere behind me fighting with me and the knowledge that if one of us fails we all fail. I just...you, I just can't...I..."

"I see," Snape replied, words failing him. So that's what it came down to. Harry wanted his friends, the people he trusted there with him at the end. Snape pushed back his chair, getting to his feet.

"I have some things to take care of," he said stiffly. "I'll be in my study," he said, walking from the room before Harry could speak.

Harry watched him go tearfully before smacking his head against the tabletop with a heartfelt groan. One day he'd become articulate and not piss people off unintentionally. He pushed his chair away from the table and trudged down through the kitchen and living room to the furthest room in the small house. The door was locked and he could just about feel the locking charms that held the door shut tight.

He squared his shoulders and knocked on the door, prepared for perhaps the hardest explanation he'd have to give in a long time.

Snape was staring blankly at the parchment in front of him, the quill clenched tightly in his fingers. There were preparations to make in the event they both failed tonight. The Order would need to be notified, and arrangements made. There were still the remaining Horcruxes to be dealt with, not to mention Voldemort himself.

But he couldn't seem to write, his mind was completely blank.

The knock on the door shook him from his stupor. There was only one person it could be, and he didn't want to see him right now.

"Please, open the door," Harry begged quietly, knowing that Snape would still hear the plea through the door.

Snape closed his eyes and sighed. Like flipping a switch, he schooled his features and pushed down any and all emotion before waving his wand at the door, releasing the locking spells. "Come in," he shouted, then proceeded to write, bending his head so his hair obscured his face.

Harry gently turned the handle of the door and entered the room. He had seen Snape bent in that hunched-over position more times than he cared to recall and each time he'd stood in front of Snape's desk like this it meant trouble. But this time he deserved it. He deserved it entirely and his hands began to shake.

"I'm sorry. I'm a complete wanker and I know it." The sound of the quill scratching across parchment was the only response he got and it hurt worse than he could have imagined. "I just... don't want you to die." His voice cracked on the last word, but was hopefully covered by the closing of the study door. It wasn't like anyone would be passing by; it was just force of habit.

"I don't intend to die," Snape replied crisply, the lie coming easily to his lips. The words were flowing easily across the page now that he was in control of his emotions once again.

"But you could," Harry whispered. "You aren't immortal. You could be dead before I even arrive and..." He cut off his voice abruptly as he stared down at his bare feet. The cold of the floor stung his toes and sent gooseflesh up his legs and eventually onto his arms.

Snape set down his quill and looked up at Harry, his face impassive. "You're right; I could die before you arrive. I could die on the way. I could die after it's all over. But it doesn't matter, Mister Potter, because regardless, you will live. I will make certain of that," he said, picking up his quill to resume writing.

Harry's head shot up as he stared at Snape with an unreadable expression. "But..." he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. What had he been about to say? He couldn't even fathom what had been on the tip of his tongue just seconds before. "When are you leaving?"

"I need to finish this and make arrangements for its delivery," Snape replied, not looking up from his parchment. "The Order needs to be notified at some point of what is going on, and what needs to be done once...Voldemort is dead," he said, catching himself before he said 'I'.

Harry nodded distractedly. "This is it, isn't it?" he asked, staring at the top of Snape's head, willing the man to look up.

Snape looked up, his face blank. "This is what, exactly?" he asked.

"I'm going to leave this office and you're going to go without saying another word to me, aren't you?" He wouldn't cry. Crying was for girls, damn it. He wasn't going to cry.

Snape stared at Harry for a long moment before lowering his eyes. He couldn't cope with the pain he saw in Harry's eyes. "I will see you before I go," he said quietly.

Harry's lips twitched in a sad attempt at a smile. "Thank you," he murmured, before walking out of the office without another word. He didn't know what to do with himself. He meandered aimlessly into the sitting room before taking up residence on the couch. He stared at the fire wishing it to ignite since his wand was still in the other room, but nothing came of it.

He drew his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them, his arms wrapping tightly around his shins as he stared blankly into the blackened fireplace.

Snape stared at the closed door, trying to make sense of things. He knew that if he left Potter to his own devices for too long, the boy would stew and would probably be a wreck by the time dusk fell. He had been worried about the few hours Harry would have to spend alone, and now the prospect of leaving him to spend all afternoon by himself weighed heavily upon Snape.

Cursing himself for caring either way, Snape finished his letter to the Order and sealed it. He rose to his feet and left the study, walking through the house until he found Harry, staring blankly into the empty fireplace.

"Do you wish to accompany me to the barn?" he asked, attempting to keep his voice neutral.

Harry turned his head slowly to the side. If he was surprised to see Snape standing there, he didn't act it.

"All right," he replied, his voice hollow.

Snape sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. This wouldn't work. The boy sounded defeated already, and the fight hadn't even begun. Unfortunately, Snape didn't have the first clue how to fix it.

Harry followed Snape despondently through the house and towards the front hall. He hadn't said one word since agreeing to follow Snape to deliver the letters.

Snape stopped at the Apparation point and waited for Harry to catch up. The boy wasn't even watching where he was going, his gaze fixed on his own feet.

Snape deliberately stepped into Harry's path, causing Harry to startle when they collided.

Harry stared up at Snape with vague curiosity. "Yes?"

Snape frowned. "You've already given up, haven't you?" he asked, his eyes searching Harry's.

Harry had enough sense to bow his head in shame.

Snape shook his head and looked up, hoping for some kind of answer. Finding nothing but clouds, he looked at the top of Harry's head, his uncaring facade slipping away.

He reached out and placed his hand on the back of Harry's neck, pulling him to him and tucking Harry's head under his chin as he had done the night before.

Harry remained stiff in his arms for a few moments before he let out a shuddering exhale and collapsed against him.

Snape smiled against the top of Harry's head. He understood that nothing else mattered but getting through the day. He lifted his head and looked around, before Apparating the two of them to the barn, ensuring their privacy from anyone passing by.

Harry shook when they reappeared, not used to side-along Apparation. He couldn't bring himself to pull away from Snape yet though and Snape was making no move to release him.

"You've been stewing again," Snape mumbled against his hair. He knew that he was to blame for Harry's declining mood, but he acted out of habit. Shutdown, then nothing matters. Except the person he was shutting out was falling apart at the worst possible time.

He sighed heavily, and held Harry a little tighter.

Harry raised his arms and gripped the back of Snape's shirt, letting out a shaky sigh. "M'sorry."

Snape said nothing, just held on to him, not knowing what else to say or do.

They stood perfectly still for a long minute or two before Snape pulled away, Harry's hands slowly falling back to his sides.

"I must owl these." Snape held up the letters he had been writing earlier. Harry blinked lethargically before nodding.

Snape held out his arm and the old owl swooped down, perching himself on Snape's shoulder. Snape tied the letters to the owl's leg. "These are not to be delivered until dusk, understood?" Snape said, scowling at the bird, who nipped his ear before flying back up to the rafters.

"Daft bird," Snape muttered, turning his attention back to Harry. "Would you like to walk a bit?" he asked, not wanting to go back to the house yet. He was going to have to leave Harry there soon enough, and he didn't want him going any more stir crazy than he had to.

"Yeah, all right," Harry responded with a small shrug. It was the most movement he had done voluntarily since seating himself on the sofa.

They walked out of the barn into an overcast sky, the weather somehow fitting for the night ahead. Harry shuffled along next to him, not really paying attention to anything.

"Damn it, Potter, you've got to snap out of this," Snape said, coming to a stop and grabbing Harry by the shoulders.

Harry turned his head to the side and stared into the forest that lined the edge of the property, before looking back at Snape.

"Why?"

"If you don't, we're both as good as dead," Snape said simply.

"We are as good as dead," Harry answered, his voice carrying little of its usual challenge.

Snape wanted to shake him, anything to bring him out of his stupor. "Then what's the point? Go back to your friends and you can all die together, because that's all that will be left for them. Death," Snape growled angrily. "Everyone you know, Muggle and wizard alike, will be nothing but toys for Voldemort to break."

Harry couldn't say anything. Guilt seemed to worm its way through his gut and out through his skin as he just stood there. "Say it."

"Say what?" Snape snapped.

"I'm a worthless freak. Say it."

Snape stepped back, looking at Harry in confusion. "What are you talking about?" Snape asked, completely lost. "If you were worthless, I would not have wasted my time on you for the last three months! Damn it, Potter, where is all this coming from?" he asked, exasperated.

Harry blinked rapidly and stared at Snape in confusion. His mouth hung open dumbly for a few seconds before he shut it again. He shook his head and blinked another couple of times before asking the ever eloquent word, "What?"

"Why in the name of Merlin would you think you were worthless?" Snape asked, frowning. "I've done everything I can to prepare you for tonight. If I thought it was an impossible task, I would not let you go. I would tell you run as far away as you could, the rest of us be damned."

Snape squeezed his shoulders. "But it is not impossible, and I know you can accomplish what needs to be done."

Harry bit his lip and bowed his head, ashamed. "I can't do it," he breathed, his voice thick. He looked back up at Snape, his eyes watery. "I can't."

"You can, and you will," Snape countered, cupping Harry's face and running a thumb across his cheek to wipe away the single tear that had fallen.

Snape knew it was cruel, but he had to use Harry's own feelings against him. "If not, then you can return to your friends, and I will go on alone."

"But...why?" Harry asked, shaking his head. "Why would you go?"

"Because I have no intention of spending the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, and more importantly, I promised Albus that I would see this through to the end," Snape said with a slight shrug. "I have broken too many promises, Potter. I will not break that one."

Harry felt the impact of the words slam into him and it left him momentarily breathless. He hit his head against Snape's chest which was the closest thing to hit and exhaled slowly, his fists clenching at his side.

"Why me?" he asked, not caring one way or the other if Snape answered, he just had to say it aloud. Just once.

Snape ran his fingers through the hair at the nape of Harry's neck. "Why not?" he asked in return. "I wouldn't trust it to anyone else."

"At least someone believes in me," he muttered, not moving his head.

Snape gripped Harry's hair and pulled it back, forcing his head up. Snape looked down at him, frowning. "Which doesn't matter if you don't believe in yourself," Snape replied, internally cringing at how trite that sounded.

"It doesn't matter if I die, so long as I take Voldemort with me."

Snape's grip tightened. "I will not let you die," he growled, dark eyes blazing.

"You can't promise that," Harry cried out with annoyance.

"You're correct, I can't," Snape replied, loosening his grip on Harry. "But I can promise that I won't leave you to fight alone, and I will do anything and everything in my power to get both of us out alive."

It was perhaps the first time in years that Snape actually felt guilt accompanying a lie.

Harry scanned his face for any deception, but Snape's face was closed off as always. Something had been off about the last of his words but he couldn't boldly say that Snape was lying to him, because if Snape actually admitted to it, Harry wasn't sure what he would do.

"I need to know your choice, Harry," Snape said softly. "If you're giving up, tell me now so I can plan accordingly."

"No, I'll go. I'll fight, for them," he said vaguely waving his hand off towards nowhere.

Snape's lip quirked into a smile. "Most of 'them' don't deserve it," he said, snorting.

"Yeah, but some of them do," Harry commented.

Snape sighed as if put upon. "If you insist on saving them all, I suppose I must let you," he said, unable to hold back a smile.

"I've got a 'saving people complex', remember?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "I suggest that tomorrow you adopt a new complex, as your current one gives me a bloody headache."

"Well then, what you would you suggest? If I can't keep this one, I'm fairly lost."

Snape thought for a moment. "How about, a 'sitting in a locked room with no furniture and soft walls' complex?" he asked. "It will certainly keep you out of trouble."

"I will not submit myself to a loony bin," Harry grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.

"I was thinking more along the lines of my cellar," he said, smirking. "At least then I could keep an eye on you from the comfort of my own home."

"You have a cellar?"

"Idiot," Snape muttered, looking up at the sky. He could make out the sun through the clouds, and it had moved further across the sky than he would have liked.

"I've got to go," he said, looking at Harry for a long moment. Deciding he had nothing to lose at this juncture, he leaned in, and kissed Harry gently, before pulling back.

"I'll see you in a few hours," he said, brushing a thumb across Harry's lip.

Harry swayed forward unconsciously, his eyes glued to Snape's face. "You won't die?"

"I'm indestructible, haven't you noticed?" Snape replied, smirking smugly. He stepped back, creating some distance between them. With a last smile, he Disapparated.

Harry winced at the loud pop that seemed to echo down the silent hillside and straight through his body. A gust of wind seemed to follow in Snape's wake and it hit Harry, making him shiver. He jerkily rubbed at an eye beneath his glasses, hating himself for having wetness appear on his hand.

* * *


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

  
The tall, yellowing grass whipped around his ankles as he stared out over the hilltop. How long he had been there was anyone's guess. He stood still as a statue, just looking. Everything was going to change. If he died, the world would be different. He could not say now if it would be better or worse, it would just be different. It would no longer be his world. But then, the longer he stared the more he realized that if he won, it would no longer be his world either. 

Nothing could go back to being how it once was. He would be a foreigner in the new world. Harry Potter would be purposeless.

He needed a hug from Mrs. Weasley. And without further thought, he withdrew his wand from his pocket and Apparated off the empty hilltop in Ireland.

"Mollywobbles?" Arthur slid behind his pensive wife and wrapped his arms around her waist. "What is it, love?"

Molly sighed, her gaze flickering to the Weasley family clock. "He's traveling."

Arthur glanced up and almost startled when he watched the spoon land on 'home'. What on earth…? He turned his head towards the living room as he heard a loud crash indicating someone had arrived who was keyed into the wards. Molly was already out of his arms and bustling out to the sitting room before he could even wrap his mind around the concept that Harry was in there.

He followed his wife and stood in the archway as he watched her almost tackle Harry to the floor. The boy looked bloody awful, though not physically. There was not a scratch or a bruise on him. He just appeared lost. So horribly lost.

"Where have you been?" Molly wailed, squeezing Harry to her bosom possessively.

Arthur winced but noticed that Harry hadn't even flinched, just collapsed against his wife gratefully. This was not a Harry he was used to seeing. This was like a mechanical Potter – wind up and watch him go.

"Hello," Harry finally murmured as if just then realizing where he was.

Arthur watched worriedly as Molly fussed and cooed over Harry. "Harry, are you all right, son?" Arthur asked.

"Of course he's not all right! Look at him," Molly said, standing back to look at Harry. "Come and sit down and I'll make us a spot of tea, how does that sound?" Molly asked, leading Harry to the sofa.

Harry nodded with a weak smile. "Tea would be nice."

Arthur waited until Molly pushed Harry gently onto the sofa before he stepped forward.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked. Arthur worriedly snapped his fingers in front of Harry's eyes and frowned at the boy's reaction time. Harry's eyes flickered before finally looking up at his face.

"Harry?" he had to make sure the boy really was listening and not just responding.

"I'm sorry," Harry muttered, his blank stare crumbling in the fraction of a second.

"For what, son?"

Harry shrugged. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he was apologizing for, all he knew was that he felt guilty. "For making you all worry."

Arthur sat down on the sofa next to Harry. "Your letter to the Prophet had us all very concerned," Arthur replied, searching Harry's face.

"I knew it would." Harry met Arthur's gaze with a sad smile. "I had to, though."

"I don't understand, Harry. You don't have to do this alone. Just because Dumbledore is gone, it doesn't mean you have to fight alone. The Order has been frantic trying to find you before something happened," Arthur said, frowning.

Molly bustled in with a tea tray, setting it on the coffee table. "Leave the poor boy alone, Arthur. Give him a chance to breathe," Molly ordered, handing a cup to Harry.

Harry smiled and whispered, "Thank you," before taking a long sip of the warm liquid. "Mrs. Weasley?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Could I have some toast?" he asked, embarrassed to admit his hunger.

"Of course you can, dear," Molly replied, hurrying to the kitchen. "How about a nice bowl of soup?" she called over her shoulder.

"That would be nice," Harry said, seemingly unaware that his voice was barely carrying across the room.

"I'll be right back, Harry," Arthur said, rising to follow Molly into the kitchen.

As soon as he entered the room, Molly grabbed him by the arm. "Oh Arthur, something is very, very wrong," she said, her eyes welling with tears. "He looks so lost."

Arthur pulled Molly against him and wrapped his arms around her, cradling her head. He gently kissed her wild red hair.

"I know," he murmured to the top of her hair. "Just make the soup, love. If we come on too strong he'll stay silent."

Molly dabbed her eyes and nodded, and Arthur returned to the sitting room to find Harry staring blankly into his tea. "Harry," Arthur said gently, getting the boy's attention. "Did something happen? Something with you-know-who?" he asked.

Harry shook his head, because it was true. Apart from getting the resulting backlash of Voldemort's well...glee, he supposed. Yes, that was it. When he and Snape had collapsed it had been because Voldemort had been happy, not wrathful. Nothing had happened directly. Not yet… an eerie feeling slowly blossomed from his stomach and he briefly wondered if he was about to be sick on the Weasley's floor.

Arthur placed his hand on Harry's back. "It's all right," he said, nodding toward Harry's cup. "Sip your tea," he said hurriedly, wondering how Harry could have become even paler than when he had first arrived.

Harry did as he was told on reflex, taking a shaky sip of the warm brown fluid. He could not believe how fast his mind was unraveling. It scared him. He looked at Mr. Weasley helplessly. He couldn't tell him what he was to do in a few hours' time. Could not begin to explain the rigorous training he had undergone to prepare for it. He had wanted to come and visit and now he found himself horribly tongue-tied.

"It's all right, Harry," Arthur said reassuringly. "You don't have to talk about anything right now. Ah, here's Molly with your soup."

Molly set another small tray next to the tea service before settling herself on the other side of Harry. "Here you go, a nice bowl of chicken soup," he said, handing a large bowl half-full of soup to Harry. "Get that in you and you'll be as right as rain," she said, looking over Harry's head at Arthur, who shook his head quickly.

Harry fingered the soup bowl, bringing it up to his nose and inhaling deeply. Stars, he missed Mrs. Weasley's cooking in ways he'd never thought he would. He took a spoonful of it, popped in it his mouth and groaned.

"Thank you," he said with a truly happy smile.

Molly smiled at Arthur, relieved that Harry was still able to smile. It gave her hope that maybe things weren't as horrible as she feared they were. Arthur had no such illusions, but he returned her smile.

"I'm sorry to just drop in like this," Harry murmured, before taking another spoonful of the warm, salty soup.

"Don't be silly, you're always welcome here, Harry," Molly replied, smiling nervously. "We've been so worried."

He smiled guiltily at her, gripping the bowl of chicken soup in both hands. "I don't mean to, at least, I try not to."

"Harry, can you tell us where you've been? What you've been doing?" Arthur asked gently. The Order had been frantic to find him, and after his letter to the Prophet, they had been in a full-blown panic.

Harry bit his lip, unable to meet Mr. Weasley's worried gaze. He wanted to tell them. They were the closest thing he had to parents, but he just couldn't. At least not all of it; maybe if he gave them just a little they wouldn't push.

"I was training. I'm sorry I haven't owled you recently. I was just busy."

Arthur frowned. "Training with whom?" he asked, watching Harry intently. He knew that it was nobody in the Order, and he couldn't begin to imagine whom Harry would turn to for training.

"I can't tell you. He wouldn't want me to."

"He who?" Arthur asked suspiciously.

Molly was wringing her hands in her lap and looking between Arthur and Harry.

"I ca-" he stopped looking between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. It was Mrs. Weasley's intensely worried expression that made him crack. He had to tell someone. It wasn't like it would matter come tomorrow, because if they won and Snape lived he'd be a hero and if they both died than it still wouldn't matter.

"You're sure you want to know?" he asked, not even half hoping they would let it go.

Arthur was becoming more concerned by the minute. "Harry, I think you'd better tell us," he said worriedly.

"You won't like it," Harry warned, shifting on the sofa. He stared down at his hands for a few moments before looking back up. "I was with Snape."

Molly gasped and grabbed Arthur's hand.

"Harry, do you know what they're saying?" Arthur said, trying to keep his voice calm. "Everyone believes it was Snape that killed Dumbledore. He's wanted by the Ministry for questioning. If you know where he is, you've got to turn him over. Snape is dangerous, Harry."

Harry shook his head with a bemused smile. "I am very aware of what they are saying and if he was that dangerous I would be dead. But I'm here, talking to you."

"Was that letter to the Prophet his idea?" Molly asked hurriedly. "Is he trying to get you killed?"

"Molly, I'm sure -" Arthur began.

"Don't you 'Molly' me, Arthur Weasley! We've been worried sick and it seems we've had reason to be! Who knows what ideas that man has put into his head! You know I always wanted to believe the best of Snape, but this...oh Harry, please don't go back there," Molly said, pleading.

Harry bristled as Mrs. Weasley ripped Snape to verbal shreds. A small part of him ached as he listened to the bruising words pour from her mouth with the kind of righteous fury only a mother had.

"I won't," he assured her. Because he wouldn't, couldn't go back there, not without Snape. It wouldn't be right.

He hated the way Mrs. Weasley brightened at his consent, but he couldn't blame her. She had no idea what would be happening in a few hours time. He swallowed around the lump that was forming in his throat.

Snape would probably already be there and he didn't know what to think about that or if he even wanted to think about it. The thought of Snape lying dead in the dreary graveyard made him nauseous. He could not shake the image of Snape's twisted limbs and bloody form from his mind, no matter how hard he tried. Harry only hoped he didn't look as horrible as he felt.

* * *

He crept through the trees surrounding the cemetery, his eyes and ears taking in the slightest sound and movement. He was concealed under Potter's cloak, but once he found what he was looking for, he would stash the cloak away. It would probably be lost for good, unless someone miraculously stumbled upon it, but the fate of the cloak was the least of his concerns. 

The faint murmur of voices reached him, and Snape stopped, holding completely still, listening intently. Unable to make out the words, Snape moved on silent feet until the words became clearer.

"You have your orders, Wormtail," Nott was saying angrily. "I don't think the traitor would dare show his face, but the Dark Lord is certain."

Snape recognized Pettigrew's whining voice right away. "I should be by my master's side," he said pathetically.

"Just do what you do best, you little rat," Nott growled. "Keep an eye out for Snape."

Snape backed away quietly, grinning in grim satisfaction. In many ways, the Dark Lord was entirely too predictable. Though it meant his inevitable death, he knew without a doubt that this was the best chance Harry had at survival.

Steeling himself, Snape removed the cloak, clenching his wand tightly. This time as he crept forward, he allowed the twigs and leaves to crunch under foot. It was only a matter of time until he was 'caught'.

And that matter of time came faster than he had anticipated. It quickly became apparent that the Dark Lord had sent out a few people to scout the surrounding woods. He felt the air shift before he heard the words of the spell form. The Body Binding Curse hit him in the back, just as he hoped would happen. It would not do to have them kill him before Potter showed.

"Well, well, well."

If Snape had the capacity to groan, he would.

Of course it would have to be Bellatrix who found him! It would be too much to ask that it was Goyle, or even Lucius. No, it would have to be Bellatrix.

"I didn't believe you were foolish enough to show your face here, Snape, but the Dark Lord knew. He always knows," she said, a maniacal grin spread across her face. "And I will be rewarded for bringing you to him," she added, eyes shining hotly.

Snape could not even glare at the witch and had to content himself with thinking about every kind of method he could employ to leave her permanently mute. He wanted to shiver when he was suddenly levitated off the ground. The spell engulfed him and coupled with the body-bind he was stuck listening to Bellatrix gloat about her fine capture.

Fine capture indeed, he sneered, giving her the mental one-fingered salute. If only she knew that she was doing exactly what he wanted her to do. He was certain it would knock the smug, deranged smile right off her face.

Instead, he was dragged along until they reached a clearing. She took the time to lean over him; her smile more deranged than ever. "I'm taking you to my Master now, so he can give you the welcome you deserve."

Snape felt something pressing into his hand, but before he could work out what it was, he felt a pull behind his navel, and he knew.

A Portkey.

* * *

Harry looked out the window into the setting sun. It was getting closer now. He would have to leave soon. Mrs. Weasley was sitting beside him nattering away about some person or another and he didn't have the heart to tell her he didn't care. He wasn't even sure he had the courage to get up off the sofa and hug her and Mr. Weasley goodbye. 

But he would have to, and soon. It would not be good to arrive late. Imagine the long-winded speech that would earn him. As if the 'farewell to the stupid Boy Who Lived' speech was not going to be long enough, he would have to sit through a three minute lecture while praying he didn't get spit on.

Suddenly, he couldn't sit there a moment longer. Harry shot to his feet, interrupting Molly mid-sentence. "I have to go," he said, looking between the two of them. "I promise, you'll see me again soon," he said, not having the heart to tell them he might be dead when they did see him.

Molly shot a helpless glance across the room to her husband pleading soundlessly for him to stop Harry from doing something rash.

"Harry?"

Harry shook his head backing around the couch. He wanted to give them both huge hugs and tell them he loved them. And what was stopping him? Nothing was. He walked behind Mrs. Weasley and wrapped his arms loosely around the matronly woman's shoulders hugging her and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"I love you," he murmured, before locking eyes with Mr. Weasley, "both." He pulled back and with a loud crack, disappeared.

His skin crawled the moment he appeared. The air smelled of death and felt thick to breathe. He truly hated this place, beyond any other place he had been before. Nothing was alive, even the trees seemed hollow and lifeless as he dashed in between the branches.

Tombstones loomed before him in untidy rows that peppered the hillside. He swallowed around the lump in his throat, wondering if it were possible to have your heart beating so loudly someone else would hear it. That his presence had gone unnoticed, he highly doubted. His scar twinged and on reflex he brought his hand up to his forehead.

He knew this could not last much longer.

Steeling himself, and hoping that Snape was nearby, Harry walked into the clearing. The Death Eaters grew silent, watching him from behind their masks. Harry ignored them, focusing all of his attention on Voldemort.

"Harry Potter, so nice of you to join us," Voldemort said with mock sincerity. "I was beginning to think you had changed your mind."

Harry's hand clenched his wand tightly. "No, Tom, I haven't," he said, pleased to hear that his voice didn't shake.

The Death Eaters hissed. "You dare show the Dark Lord such disrespect!" Bellatrix cried from her position at Voldemort's left side.

Voldemort laid his pale, white hand on her arm. "It is all right, Bellatrix, Harry will soon pay for his ignorance," Voldemort said calmly.

Harry didn't so much as acknowledge her existence. "It's time to end this, Tom, once and for all," Harry said, his voice becoming stronger.

Voldemort smiled. "We shall, Harry, we shall. But first, we have another matter that needs to be addressed. Bellatrix, please show Mister Potter our guest of honor."

Harry's eyes flicked to Bellatrix and he licked his lips nervously. This wasn't in the plan.

Bellatrix pointed her wand at the ground in front of her and held out her hand. A moment later, she held Harry's invisibility cloak, revealing Snape, bloodied and battered at her feet.

Harry's stomach dropped and his heart lodged in his throat. "No," he whispered softly, unable to take his eyes from Snape's limp form. "What did you do to him?" he asked quietly. He glared at Voldemort. "What did you do to him?" he shouted, raising his wand, fear and worry quickly being replaced by fury.

Bellatrix was giggling like a child, and the other Death Eaters were laughing.

"I did warn you, Harry, that dear Severus would not be welcome here," Voldemort said, as if chiding an errant child. "And as I promised, he has been dealt with in the way we deal with all traitors," he said, smiling.

No, this couldn't be happening. Snape promised he wouldn't be alone.

"You killed him," Harry said, choking back a sob, and fighting the tears that threatened to fall.

Voldemort chuckled. "Not yet, Harry. My loyal friends haven't finished with him yet. He will die, but it will be slow and painful, I can assure you. Unless…"

"Unless what? I give up, let you kill me instead," Harry said, trembling with fury now. He's not dead, he's not dead, he repeated over and over in his head.

"That would hardly be fair," Voldemort replied, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "However, since the two of you have become so…close," he said, a sick smile stretching his thin lips, "if you wish to spare him of what is to come, I will allow you to kill him. Yourself."

Harry blanched. "You're insane," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "I won't kill him!"

"Tsk, tsk, Harry," Voldemort replied, shaking his head sadly. "And I thought you actually cared for the man. Bellatrix, if you would."

An evil smile curling about her lips, Bella raised her wand and pointed at Snape. "Crucio!" she cried, and Snape began to writhe on the ground, a scream ripped from his throat.

"No!" Harry shouted, turning his wand on Bellatrix, but it was too late. When his attention was averted, Voldemort cast a spell, attempting to disarm him. Harry managed to hold on to his wand, but his own curse went wild.

"Enough, Bella," Voldemort said, and grinning maniacally, Bellatrix released Snape from the spell. He lay on the ground, moaning pitifully.

Harry's mind was racing, desperately trying to find a way out, a way to save Snape. If he could get to him, he could Apparate them both away. He wasn't above running if it meant Snape would live.

"You can spare him, Harry. Spare him hours of pain and suffering," Voldemort crooned. "Only you," he said, taking a few steps toward Harry.

Harry's eyes moved between Snape and Voldemort, panic clutching at his heart. Could he do it? Could he do what Snape had been willing to do for Dumbledore? Could he kill him to spare him the torment?

Snape's eyes fluttered opened, and met Harry's, his gaze direct and piercing. With what looked like enormous effort, Snape shifted, extending his arm toward Harry as if pleading with him. Then he opened his clenched fist, and Harry saw it. A long gash across Snape's palm. His eyes flew back to Snape's face, and Harry saw his lips move, ever so slightly.

_Heal it._

Snape's eyes closed, and his body went limp once again. Harry felt something surge within him, and he looked at Voldemort, his eyes blazing with renewed fury. "I won't let you hurt him any more," he snarled. 

"There is only one way to stop it, Harry Potter," Voldemort said, his red eyes shining with excitement.

Harry raised his wand, his hand shaking as he pointed it at Snape. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Taking a deep and steadying breath, Harry shouted, "Protego!" Almost immediately, both Harry and Snape were surrounded by a bright white light.

Harry was aware of the chaos around him as Voldemort and his Death Eaters began hurling spell after spell at him, but nothing reached him. Inside his shield, it was completely silent. With agonizing slowness, he began to walk towards Voldemort. Harry stumbled slightly when the green lights hit his shield, but nothing happened.

Voldemort was shouting, and his eyes were wide and panicked as Harry closed the distance between them. Harry didn't know if he could cast a spell without dropping the shield, but he was about to find out.

"Avada Kedavra!"

He fell to his knees beside Snape.

The green light Harry expected to shoot forth from his wand didn't happen. Instead, the shield surrounding him and Snape began to glow with a pale green light. His whole body began to tremble as his fist clenched around his wand. He could see Voldemort's lips moving, but no sound reached him.

Then the shield surrounding them exploded, shards of green light spilling forth, impaling Voldemort and Bellatrix. The two forms went flying backwards as Harry's wand shattered in his hand.

Loud cracks filled the air behind him and Harry didn't need to look around to see the entire order standing behind him, his gaze and thoughts all centered around the battered form lying prone on the ground. Fear gripped him and he stumbled over his own feet to get to Snape's side.

"Don't be dead," he mumbled frantically. "Don't be dead. You can't die. Don't be dead."

Spells were flying all around him as the Order attempted to subdue the remaining Death Eaters, but Harry was oblivious. His head was swimming, and his body felt like jelly, but he couldn't take his eyes from Snape's still form.

Someone was pulling on his arm, and Harry shrugged him or her off, vaguely registering Lupin speaking to him. Harry continued shaking his head, mumbling incoherently before his eyes rolled up in his head, and he collapsed atop Snape's bloodied body, unconscious.

* * *


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

"Mr. Potter."

Harry groaned and batted away the offending person. Light suddenly flooded behind his eyelids and he moaned.

"Mr. Potter, can you hear me?"

"Is he going to be alright?" a voice asked. "Shouldn't he be awake by now?"

Harry tried to ignore it, wanting to go back to the darkness where he didn't hurt and didn't have to think or feel.

Before he could sink into the void, a voice he recognized pulled him back. "Come on, mate, wake up before mum starts crying again."

"Mum?" he slurred, opening one eyelid with a painful slowness that all witnessing it could feel.

He blinked against the light, his eyes unable to focus on the people surrounding him. He knew he was in a bed, but where that bed was, he didn't know.

"Sev'rus," he murmured.

The air went still around him and for a brief, fleeting, hopeful moment he thought they had gone and left him alone so he could fall into the darkness once more; but no, a hand rested on his shoulder and he was forced to open his eyes and embrace the waking world again .

"Mione," he mumbled, his gaze landing on the frizzy brunette before him. She stared at him with worried brown eyes, her upper teeth gnawing on her lower lip. He hoped she didn't start to cry on him. He hated it when girls got weepy like that.

"Glasses?" he asked, squinting his eyes, trying to bring the faces around him into focus.

Hermione's soft hand placed the wire frames into his outstretched palm and he haphazardly struggled to put them on his face. His best friend reached out and adjusted them so they sat just so on the bridge of his nose. He could see again.

His throat was dry and scratchy, but he wasn't thirsty or hungry either for that matter. It made little sense to him. By Ron's words alone he knew he had been unconscious for more than a few hours, so why didn't he need to relieve himself or drink any water or eat any food?

"What happened?" he asked, finding it even stranger that his voice wasn't the usual rasp of someone having been unconscious for a long period of time.

Lupin came into view, his arm in a sling and a bandage across his neck. "How much do you remember, Harry?" he asked softly, smiling.

Harry frowned and bowed his head, before he gazed frantically around at the faces. He could remember it, all of it. Snape's half-dead body, his wand shattered, the Avada Kedavra curse. Oh God! He had killed someone. He knew it; felt it with every bit of his being. He had killed people, even though most would not consider Voldemort a person any more. He had killed, killed out of rage and vengeance. He was a murderer. And Snape. Harry squeezed his eyes shut. Snape could be dead and it wasn't like any of the Order was likely to tell him. They probably still thought he was the scum of the earth and no amount of explanation would make them feel any differently. Most of them had never trusted the greasy bat to begin with, so why would they start now? And, what if they were hiding something from him? What if they knew something Harry didn't? He did not like the uneasy feeling that was wriggling around his gut, and not even Lupin's reassuring smile could appease the nasty little bugger.

"Snape?" he asked, his eyes falling on each and every one of his family and friends.

The Weasleys looked at one another cautiously. They knew Harry had been with Snape for the last couple of months, but they didn't know what kind of hold Snape might have over him.

Molly took his hand and squeezed it. "Don't you worry about that, dear. You just focus on getting well."

Harry batted her worried, mothering hands away from him. He drew himself away from them physically and emotionally. He could not trust them. They would lie to him. No one would tell him the truth. He would have to ask a reliable source. He did not wish to hurt his family, but in order to get the answers he sought; he would need to go above their heads.

He had realized not long after waking where he was. He was in the hospital wing in Hogwarts. He was home. There was nothing that could stop him now from seeking Madame Pomfrey. Harry vaguely wondered if his feeling of good health had anything to do with his messed-up magic or if he just had so many healing and calming potions running through him that he was momentarily insensible to everything.

"Harry, dear?"

Harry ignored Mrs. Weasley and it cut him like a dull knife. He would have to hurt them. That was something he had never wished to do, but this meant more to him then their petty concerns. Snape, he found it fascinating to note, meant more to him at that moment than any of the oxygen-breathing people in the curtained off area with him.

An aging hand landed on his shoulder, preventing him from getting out of bed and he snarled, "Let me go."

"Harry, I'm afraid we can't do that until Madame Pomfrey tells us you're okay."

"Remus, let me go," he repeated as if he had not heard the werewolf's rational answer.

"Calm yourself, Mister Potter," Pomfrey's firm voice ordered. "You'll not be undoing all my careful work."

Harry's eyes darted to her. "Where's Snape?" he asked, ignoring the questioning looks from the people around him.

"He's under guard at St. Mungo's," she said, pressing a cup to his mouth. "Drink this, you need to remain calm."

Harry pressed his lips tightly together and pushed her hands far away from him. He didn't want any calming draught and he knew that was what she was trying to force through his tightly-shut lips.

"Mr. Potter, really, do be sensible," Madame Pomfrey said with her infernal calmness. If this were any other visit to the hospital wing he would have taken the potion without question, but no. He needed to stay lucid; he needed to be able to think, for if he couldn't think and argue he would never be able to ask all the questions that were zipping about his head.

"Harry," Hermione said, being the only one brave enough now to rest a hand on his shoulder. He looked at her with a dangerous expression, but she remained strong and he conceded to her with a small nod. There was no way in any of the circles of hell that he would open up his mouth, with Madame Pomfrey hovering about him like an angel of death. She was dear to him, but right at that precise moment, he wished he could glare a spell and break the glass in her hand.

Hermione squeezed his striped, starched, pajama-clad shoulder. "He's in critical condition, Harry. No one knows what is wrong with him."

Harry shook his head desperate to will her words away and the implied message beneath them. Snape, the greasy bastard, was dying. Why couldn't she have just told him outright? It was written all over her worried posture, her nervous fingers curling at the edge of her gray-blue skirt. There was no hiding it from him.

He wanted to ask her for more details, but that blasted potion-bearing witch still stood by his bedside. They were trapping him there and he had never felt more caged in than he did at that moment. Not even his time sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs had made him this twitchy, this full of energy. He could not stand it. He felt he would surely explode if they kept him here much longer.

Teeth clenched, lest Pomfrey take the opportunity to pour a potion down his throat, Harry growled, "I have to use the loo."

Madame Pomfrey looked ready to dissuade him of that notion by telling him of some medical term or potion that had stopped his need. Before she could, he had Hermione's wand in his hand and was standing on the bed with a fierce, half-mad expression that would tell anyone that he was livid.

"Take me to him," he snarled, emerald eyes clashing with concerned but defeated hazel. Lupin would help. He always helped. The man had a weak will. Sweet Merlin, he was beginning to sound like Snape. "Now!"

Harry ignored the worried looks being bandied about, focusing completely on Lupin. "If anything happens to him there, I'll never forgive any of you," Harry warned, his voice cold.

Remus held up his hand. "It's alright, Harry. I'll take you to him, just...calm down."

"I'll calm down when I see that he's being taken care of," Harry argued, glaring at the group surrounding his bed.

"That's my wand!" Hermione cried. Harry snorted and stepped off the bed, brushing by Madame Pomfrey and accidentally knocking the vial of clear liquid from the matronly woman's fragile age-spotted hands. The resulting tinkle of broken glass as the tiny vial hit the stone floor made him grin.

Hermione was staring at him in a horrified manner, but he found himself completely uncaring. He had more important things to do. He would apologize later like the good boy they expected him to be and this would all be swept under the metaphorical rug. However, people trample on rugs and he knew he was bound to get worried, sympathetic looks when they thought he wouldn't notice. He really wondered if they truly believed he could not see the disturbed and innocently confused expressions on each of their faces. Or the way Ginny's hands were trembling, and Ron's flaming red face, or the way Mr. Weasley was secretly rubbing soothing circles at the base of Mrs. Weasley's back.

Idiotic, sentimental fools, the lot of them. Did they not understand what he was feeling? How much it hurt to just breathe in and out? How crazed his thoughts were? His desperation; how could they not feel it? He stepped up beside the ragged werewolf.

"No jokes, no tricks, no lies. Take me to him, Remus, please?"

"You have my word, Harry, just lower the wand," Remus said calmly. Harry couldn't help but notice that he sounded like he was talking to a rabid dog.

Harry lowered the wand, but didn't release his hold on it. "Take me," Harry said, his eyes darting about, making sure that nobody would try and stop them. "Is the Floo open?" he asked, not wanting to take the time it would need to get past the Apparation wards.

Remus looked at Poppy, who nodded curtly, scowling openly at Harry.

"Come on, Harry." He nodded toward the large Floo a bit further down the ward.

Harry hung close to Remus, his fingers curling anxiously around Hermione's thin wand. The lighter piece of wood felt awkward in his hand and he realized he would never feel the familiar weight of his own wand again. Fawkes... it was all he'd had of Dumbledore. The thought killed a little piece of him and he tripped over his own feet. He didn't fall, but he might as well have.

A large, comforting hand landed between his shoulder blades, gently propelling him forward and he suddenly wanted to just be held. He wanted Remus to just pick his body off the ground and hold him like a baby. So many things had gone wrong and there was no fixing it. He was beginning to wonder if going to see Snape would be worth it. His anger was already deflating, but his need to see the greasy git had not left him. He itched to just be able to see the hook-nosed, greasy, black-haired man and make sure that he wasn't dead yet.

A heavy weight settled in his chest and he vaguely realized that it was guilt.

They stepped up to the Floo and Remus grabbed a handful of powder from the mantle. "Are you ready, Harry?" he asked gently.

Harry nodded, fighting back tears that were threatening to fall.

"We'll go together then," Remus said, moving the two of them into the large fireplace. Remus looked Harry over carefully, and something in his face softened.

He wrapped Harry up in a hug and said, "Hold tight," against the boy's hair before throwing the powder into the fire and shouting, "St. Mungo's!"

Harry buried his tearstained face in Remus's tattered robes as they spun wildly through the Floo system to their destination. He gritted his teeth against the nausea that was threatening his upset stomach, telling it to sod off and die. Fire grates flashed beneath them, some lit, some dead, none of them with people in them. Harry was fairly positive that his stomach would not appreciate that sight one bit. They were spinning enough, thanks; seeing someone else spinning just as freely would do him in. He wasn't even sure where his vomit would go if he did manage to empty whatever was in his stomach.

Their landing was anything but gentle and their reception caused more than a tiny disturbance. Harry gripped Remus tightly, knowing his previous landings had been less than stellar and sometimes downright awful. He did not fancy getting broken glass in his eyes either. And speaking of his eyes… Flashbulbs were going off in his face leaving clouds of choking smoke in their wake.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter over here! Mr. Potter!"

Harry's fingers clenched Hermione's wand tightly, his mind running through a list of low-level hexes that wouldn't get him tossed in Azkaban faster than he could say: Fizzing Whizbees.

"Hang on, Harry," Remus said softly in his ear before facing the throng.

"Let us through," he shouted, holding Harry tightly. "I need to get him to a healer!"

The flashbulbs continued, but the shouting died down to a low murmur. "I'd tell you to look sick, but I can see I don't need to," Remus said amusedly in Harry's ear.

"Out of the way," Remus ordered, his own wand held in front of him. The crowd parted and they were able to get through the doors to where the press weren't permitted.

"Remus, I..." Harry trailed off, staring up at the graying wizard. Gratitude swept through him and he stepped forward, wrapping his lanky arms around the last remaining link to his parents, the man who had literally just saved him from greedy hands and notepads and self-quoting quills. "Thank you," he muttered, finishing off in a spectacularly lame manner.

Remus held him, stroking his hair in a soothing manner. "You're my family, Harry. I'll always try to see to your happiness, even if I might disagree with it."

Harry nodded against Lupin's neck and pulled away, looking around him. "Where is he, Remus? I've got to see him," Harry pleaded.

"Why is he so important, Harry?" Remus questioned. Harry stared at him for a moment, trying to dig to the truth of the question when it struck him. There was nothing deeper to the question, just genuine interest and maybe a bit of confusion, but nothing else. Remus wasn't trying to trick him into telling him anything he didn't want to divulge or that he didn't understand himself. He was allowed to not answer if the casual gesture to the fourth door on the left was any indication.

He ran an agitated hand through his messy black locks and sighed. "He's everything. If he dies, I...Remus, I don't know what I'd do."

Remus smiled sadly, but nodded. "He's through there, but he's being guarded by Aurors. If he – when he recovers, he'll be taken to trial for Dumbledore's death," Remus warned.

Harry stepped back, his lip curling in anger. "I was on the tower that night, Remus. Give me Veritaserum if you want, but Snape did not murder Albus Dumbledore," Harry said fiercely.

Remus didn't get to question this because Harry was already disappearing into Snape's room. He started counting backwards from ten on his bad arm waiting for the precise moment Harry lost all his composure. He knew it was coming. He started ticking off the seconds slowly, one finger lowering with each passing number. The third finger hadn't even lowered completely when the building practically shook.

"OUT!" Harry roared, upon seeing how many Aurors were milling around. They all stared at him like the dumb Ministry peons they were. "ARE YOU ALL DEAF? I said GET OUT!"

"That's quite enough, Potter," Moody growled, coming up from behind him. "The Ministry has been searching for Snape since the night he murdered Dumbledore. We—"

"NO!" Harry shouted. "He did not murder Dumbledore, and it weren't for him Voldemort would be owning all of us right now. But he's dead! AND IT WOULDN'T HAVE HAPPENED WITHOUT SNAPE!" he shouted, right in Moody's face.

The old Auror held his ground. "Potter, don't test my patience," he began but soon found himself talking to nothing but air. Harry had breezed past him wordlessly and none of the other Aurors made any move to stop him. Harry sat down on the stiff hospital bed, gritting his teeth as he realized no one had changed Snape out of the clothing he had been in the last time he'd seen him.

"How long?" he ground out, his tone deceptively calm. "How long have we been unconscious?"

Remus moved quickly to get between Harry and Moody, putting an arm around Harry's shoulder. "Nearly three days, Harry. Snape's had so much spell damage, as well as physical torture, that we're very concerned."

Harry stood, facing Moody angrily. "Get out. All of you, I want you out," he growled, his hand clenching around the unfamiliar wand. "Remus can stay, but the rest of you need to leave. NOW!"

Remus gave Moody a quick shake of the head, his brown hair falling in his face, as the Auror made to move towards them. "Go," he mouthed, wondering how much pain he would go through later for doing this for Harry. The grizzled Auror gestured sharply with his wand towards the rest and sparks flew from the tip. All right, Remus revised his thoughts; he wondered how he was going to avoid imminent death at the next Order meeting that evening.

He not only knowingly helped Harry, who was obviously still weak, despite the spirit and fire in the emerald green eyes, out of Hogwarts and into St. Mungo's, he then proceeded to take him to see the Wizarding World's Most Hated Person. He was surely dead, and he was stunned to realize he didn't care. Right now all he cared about was Harry's mental health and if Snape made him better then he was going to support him fully.

Once the room was empty, Harry collapsed onto the bed next to Snape, resting his head on his own knees, composing himself. Remus was rubbing gentle circles on his back. Harry finally raised his head to look at Lupin. He got tiredly to his feet, and hugged the man tightly.

"Thank you, Remus," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

Remus just held him until Harry broke the embrace. "I need a few minutes alone with him. Can you come back in about ten minutes?"

Remus placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

Harry smiled softly. "There's no place safer for me than right here."

Remus stared at him for an indecisive second, his fingers playing with the frayed edge of his robe sleeve, before he plunged his hand into his pocket. Harry watched him curiously, his head tipped to the side, black hair spilling across his pale face and glasses. A folded piece of crumpled parchment was handed roughly to him. He took it and stared at the obviously well-read letter before gazing curiously at his – well, he'd have to think about that one, because Snape wasn't his professor anymore, but for now he couldn't think of anything better to call him.

"What is this?" he asked, turning it over and over in his hands.

Remus didn't smile, but he wasn't frowning either. "Just read it, Harry. I will be back in ten minutes. You understand?"

Harry smiled gratefully and nodded. He unfolded the letter carefully, hesitantly, unsure if something was about to explode in his face and knock him unconscious. But that was stupid of him to even think, it wasn't Moody who gave it to him, or a Weasley twin; this was from Remus. He had to be able to trust someone. The door opened and closed with a loud squeak, but he didn't notice it.

His heart caught in throat as he finally unfolded the note. It was Snape's handwriting, the distinct, classic style of cursive burning his eyes. It was addressed to him and hatred towards the Order filled him as he realized that every single one of them had probably read and scorned the letter. The scorch marks on the edges told him one, if not more of them had tried to burn it. They had tried to burn away Snape's words and that hurt worse than anything else they could have done.

_Potter,_

_It would seem that your abnormally good luck has seen you through yet another day. I highly doubt I was granted such luck. In which case, there are things I wish you to know. You have done more than any man should be asked to do, and though you barely scrape by with the skin of your teeth intact (that blasted luck again no doubt), you do what needs to be done, despite the consequences. You do it, because it is the right thing to do. I cannot claim to know what that feels like – the very idea sets my teeth on edge – but I can admire the quality in you. Albus would be proud of you, Harry._

_As am I._

_Leave the cleaning up to the bloody Order. It's about time they did something useful. Let Moody find the other Horcruxes, you know where to find the files._

_You've done more than your part. Go. Be happy. Fly a bloody kite or something!_

_Sincerely,  
Severus Snape_

_p.s. I'd apologize for losing your cloak, but you'd only get into trouble with it anyway, foolish idiot that you are._

Harry crinkled the edge of the mangled letter in his hands. Tears fell off the tip of his nose and splattered on the ink, smudging it; he hadn't even realized he was crying until that moment. He let out a mad bark of laughter, tipping his head backwards, rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses. God, he hated Snape.

"Bastard," he muttered, but even that didn't sound as angry as he wanted it to. He folded the letter up with trembling hands, the letter he'd almost never received. When Snape woke up – and he would, Harry didn't want to think of the other possibility – he would receive a sound beating for lying to him. He wanted to throw something, but there weren't even any chairs in the room.

No one had anticipated any long-staying visitors; the hospital staff hadn't even had the common courtesy to stick him in a normal room. Harry brought his leg up onto the bed and tucked it under him. He brushed a strand of Snape's greasier than normal – he almost wanted to laugh at the fact that it was so greasy when Snape had gone to such lengths recently to remain clean – hair off his pale, blood-smeared, drawn face.

"They didn't even clean you up," Harry muttered bitterly, tracing his finger down Snape's hooked nose. "It doesn't matter though," he continued, brushing the inquisitive finger over Snape's cracked, bleeding lips. He idly rubbed his index finger and thumb together, smearing the blood between them. He glanced at the door, not sure how much time he had left until Remus came back; there was no way to tell the time in that room. Harry didn't even have a watch. Hell, he was still in striped, hospital pajamas.

Snape looked like hell though, much worse than him by far.

"Did they even try to fix you up?" he asked rhetorically, running his finger alongside a jagged scar near the older man's temple. He pursed his lips and withdrew his questing hand, twirling Hermione's wand between his fingers thoughtfully. He wondered… Snape would laugh at him if he told him; he was thinking, what a shock! He brought the unfamiliar wand up to Snape's temple and before he could even incant the right spell the wound was healing over, new skin repairing the old, closing it up. There was barely even a faint sliver of a scar left; Harry dropped the wand to the floor in surprise. He didn't remember that happening ever before.

Feeling curiously detached now, Harry retrieved the wand from the floor, and traced it across Snape's lips, watching the dry, split skin come together. He gently ran the wand over the worst of Snape cuts and bruises, the wounds healing before his eyes.

"Harry?"

"Go away, Remus, I'm busy." Harry shrugged off the hand on his shoulder, something resembling a growl issuing from this throat. He could feel Remus behind him but paid him no mind, focusing completely on Snape. He didn't know how much time passed before Snape inhaled sharply, arching off the bed. The wand dropped to the floor and Harry stepped back, bumping into Remus, his eyes wide as Snape's body fell back against the mattress, a sigh escaping the man's lips.

"What did I do?" he asked, nearly collapsing against the werewolf.

Remus had an arm around Harry's shoulders keeping him upright as he stared at Snape wide eyed.

"I don't know," he answered, shaking his head in bewilderment. He had never seen anything like that in his entire life.

Harry took a tentative step forward, reaching out and touching Snape's arm lightly. Remus stepped up beside him, leaning over, listening to Snape's heartbeat and eased breathing. "Whatever you did, I don't think you've done any damage. He looks better than he has since he got here."

Harry slid his hand down Snape's arm and squeezed his hand, speaking to Remus without turning his head. "How did you find us? He said we were on our own," he said softly.

Remus stood beside Harry, looking down at Snape. "No doubt that's exactly what he needed you to believe," Remus said, and Harry could hear a smile in his voice. "He didn't want you to expect anyone to save you."

"Ruddy bastard," Harry said, holding Snape's hand tighter. "But how did you find us?"

"That letter I gave you, it came with another," Remus said, sighing. "Snape told us where you would be, and that you were going to be facing down Voldemort. Alone. He told us where to go, but by the time we got the letter and got organized, it was all over. At least, Voldemort was gone. We're still tracking down a few Death Eaters, but Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange were both dead. The giants and Dementors, for the most part, seem to have lost their desire to fight, and the Inferi just disappeared altogether."

"Nagini?" he questioned quietly.

"Dead as well; you can thank Charlie for that later."

Harry shivered. He had killed two people and he didn't even know how. But they were dead. And he had done it. He was a killer, and he was going to be praised for it. He forced his mind away from the subject before the bile could rise in his throat.

"You're sure he's dead?" Harry asked shakily.

"Moody incinerated his body himself, then scattered the ashes," Remus said, squeezing Harry's shoulder. "Harry, Arthur was under the impression that the Horcruxes had all been destroyed," he said carefully. "But Snape's letter said otherwise."

Harry tensed, refusing to meet Lupin's eyes. "They're not gone. Voldemort was making it impossible for us to do anything. He was tormenting me through my scar and Seve – Snape through his mark. We both just wanted him gone," he said, his voice trailing off to a whisper.

"Oh, Harry."

Harry looked up at Remus with a watery smile. "Was it too much to ask for? I have…he has – both of us, for years now...we couldn't live like that any more. We just couldn't."

"You should have come to us, Harry, we could have helped you," Remus said, laying a hand on Harry's shoulder and leaning his head in close. "You didn't have to do it all alone."

Harry's breath hitched. "Yes, I did."

Remus sighed, but didn't bother to argue. It could wait for another day. "The Ministry has many questions for you and I don't know how long we'll be able to hold them off," he warned. He looked over Harry's shoulder at Snape. "They're particularly anxious to get their hands on him."

"I figured that from the ten guards surrounding his bedside," he replied dryly. "Unless the Ministry of Magic has instated some new policy on beside manner that I haven't heard of yet."

"Well, it's good to know you can still joke," Remus said, smiling gently before sobering. "Harry, the Ministry has a Death Eater in custody who claims that Snape killed Dumbledore that night. They say they were there and witnessed it."

Harry started, turning wide eyes down to Snape before looking fearfully up at the haggard werewolf. "Who?" It was all he could get out around the lump in his throat. Anger churned in the pit of his stomach, slow to ignite and hard to stamp out.

"Amycus Carrow," Remus replied, searching Harry's face, reading his reaction, "claims that Draco Malfoy was appointed the task, and when he failed, Snape killed Albus for him."

"Lies!" Harry hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously towards the closed doors.

"Obviously, the two of you have some kind of...well, I don't know what you have with Snape, but one way or another he's going to have to answer to the Ministry," Remus said calmly.

Harry snarled low in the back of his throat. The door burst open and a flood of people entered the room, all their wands trained on Harry.

"Potter, stand down." Moody jabbed his wand aggressively towards Harry's and Snape's hands. A sneer curled Harry's lips as he took a defensive step backwards. He needed to get out of here before he did something stupid, like cast an Incendio at Moody's wooden leg.

And before anyone could stop him, he Apparated out of St. Mungo's with Snape in tow, leaving everyone temporarily deaf from the monstrous cracking noise.

Harry was shocked to find himself in the middle of the sitting room in Snape's cottage. His arm was pulled down as Snape's body hit the floor beside him.

"Shit," Harry swore, cringing as he looked at Snape's limp body sprawled at his feet. "Shit, shit, shit!" he repeated, placing his arms under Snape's back and knees, trying to lift him, but he was still too weak to manage it.

Realizing he still had Hermione's wand, Harry stood, and cast a levitation spell on Snape, leading him to the bedroom and settling him gently on the bed.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, his nerveless fingers releasing his friend's wand to the floor. He listened to it clatter and roll across the room, but didn't get up to go after it. He had just helped a suspected murderer escape prosecution; he would not be welcomed back with open arms again.

His hands trembled as he ran them through his hair, mussing it up worse than ever before.

"Slimy git," he grumbled, looking down at Snape's still form. If he didn't know any better – and he did – he would have thought he was just sleeping, like he always did. Maybe, just maybe he could pretend he was. Harry lay down beside Snape and curled into his side. He pulled one of the lifeless arms around his shoulders, wishing the man himself was awake to do so. "You'd better be worth it," he mumbled.

* * *

Snape was fighting his way out of the darkness which had been his only escape from the pain. He was coming back to himself, bit by bit, cautiously fighting toward the surface. Finding no pain, he finally connected, feeling only a weight lying his chest. He didn't know what had happened to the blinding pain, but he was happy it was gone.

Opening his eyes slowly, he stared at the ceiling, focusing on the familiar cracked patterns. This wasn't right. He looked down and saw the familiar muss of hair lying on his chest. This definitely wasn't right.

Unless...

"Are we dead?" he rasped, his throat raw.

Harry looked up in shock. "You're awake!" he blurted out. A goofy ear-splitting smile broke out onto his face before he could stop it.

"Obviously," Snape said, frowning in an attempt to figure out what was happening. "How did we get here?"

Harry bit his lip and pulled away from Snape. He sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers digging into the firm mattress. "I Apparated us."

"Apparated us from where?" Snape asked, waiting for the pieces to fall into place. His last memory was of lying in the dirt, praying to die. "Potter, what happened?" he asked, sitting up and looking around the familiar room. His eyes flashed to Harry, long fingers gripping his forearm.

Harry bowed his head but made no move to shake off the hand. "We won." He offered Snape a crooked grin that faded at the unamused expression he received in return. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously; he turned pleading eyes on an unaffected face and gave in. "St. Mungo's."

We won.

"We won?" Snape repeated, his brow furrowing. "Why aren't I dead?" he asked, more to himself than to Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes and pushed off the bed violently. He turned around with a stormy expression. "Well, if you want to die so fucking badly, you can just go back to the fucking hospital and rot! I'm so glad I wasted my time fixing you up."

Snape threw his legs over the side of the bed, moving to stand, but dizziness had him falling heavily back on the bed. Through clenched teeth he growled, "Damn it, Potter! What the bloody fuck happened?"

"The Order showed up. Someone squealed, so you're still the Ministry's most wanted. You're a dead man if you walk out of this house." Harry's chest heaved and he gulped in air rapidly. "I killed people to save you. My wand shattered. They wouldn't tell me where you were." Dizziness swept through him and he stumbled backwards. "I read your letter, your fucking goodbye letter! Why didn't you tell me?"

Snape blinked, taking in the rambling things Harry was telling him.

Order. Wanted. Killed. Letter.

We won.

Then Harry stumbled and began to fall backwards and Snape reached out, pulling him forward, causing them both to fall backwards onto the bed.

Snape looked at him, then his face broke into a small smile. "We won? You really did it?" he asked, almost breathless.

Harry frowned in annoyance. "Isn't that what I just said?"

Snape smiled. Chuckled. Then laughed out loud, grabbing Harry's face and kissing him soundly before drawing back and pushing Harry off of him so he could look at his arm. The Dark Mark was there, but it was faded and lifeless. "You did it," Snape whispered, awe in his voice.

Harry propped himself up on his elbows with a bemused grin and looked up from where he was sprawled on the floor. Snape's good mood infected his festering thoughts and brought a smile to his own lips.

Snape looked at Harry and frowned. "Why are you on the floor?"

"I fell." He quirked an eyebrow expectantly.

"How did you do it?" Snape asked, not even sure if things had gone as he had planned. The torture part certainly went as planned, though the way he felt now, he even began to question that. "Details, Potter."

"Do what? Fall?" Right, Snape must have hit his head harder on the floor earlier than he had thought. "You pushed me if you must know-"

"Not the fall, Potter."

Harry gave him a curiously innocent look. He knew exactly what Snape had meant, but it didn't mean he was going to answer. He pushed back the sight of Bella's body flipping through the air like a pancake as the killing curse slammed into her, and the smell of burning flesh, and the taste of blood dripping from his own nose.

Snape watched the color drain from Harry's face, his bemused grin vanishing to be replaced by a look of sadness. "Harry, come here," he said quietly, holding out his hand.

Harry took the hand and unsteadily got to his feet, his hospital pajamas bunching uncomfortably. He staggered forward and collapsed on the bed face first. He didn't have the energy to roll over.

"I killed people," he whimpered, his stomach clenching painfully, whatever sedative he had been under was wearing off and pain slowly trickled back into his body.

"Wasn't that the point of all this?" Snape asked, bewildered.

Harry gazed up at him with a blank expression. "I killed someone," he repeated dully.

"Yes, you did," Snape replied matter-of-factly. "Which means you live, your friends live, the whole bloody wizarding world, not to mention the Muggles, all live. Would you honestly take it back if you could?" he asked softly.

"I've never killed anyone. Never," he continued on as if he hadn't heard Snape at all. "She was so horrified… and the sound." Harry shook his head slowly, his tongue feeling thick and swollen in his mouth. "I wasn't supposed to kill anyone else; just him."

"Who else did you kill?" Snape asked, though he had a good idea of who 'she' might be.

Harry closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "Bellatrix Lestrange."

Snape's lip curled in disgust. "She was an evil woman, Potter, make no mistake. She gloried in the heinous acts she committed in the name of her master," he rasped. "I think your friend Longbottom will only find satisfaction in her death. Would you take that from him?"

"No." Harry shook his head and buried his face in the blankets beneath him. Neville would be overjoyed with the news and it made his head ache.

Snape had no idea what the right thing to say was, so he chose to change the subject. "Can you explain how it is that I came to be in such good condition? My last conscious thought was of nothing but pain and wishing to die. How long has it been?" he asked, suddenly concerned by how much time might have passed.

Harry brought his head up from the fluffy blankets and rested his cheek against them instead, getting a better view of Snape. Still too drained to move much, he frowned. "Three days."

"Impossible," Snape replied, shaking his head. He knew what his condition had been, and it was not something that could be healed in three days. Three weeks at the inside perhaps, but three days was just absurd. "You mentioned St. Mungo's; was I there?"

"Yes. They had Aurors guarding your room."

"And you just walked in and Apparated us away?" Snape asked, his lip curved in amusement. "You cannot Apparate from anywhere but the lobby of St. Mungo's, Potter. And there is still the matter of the three days. It was impossible for me to be healed from all the trauma my body suffered in only three days." Snape had his eyes narrowed as he looked at Harry. "What aren't you telling me?"

"I healed you."

Snape looked at Harry quizzically a moment before his meaning settled. "You. You healed...everything?" he asked, frowning.

"Possibly?" Harry bit his lip roughly. "You weren't breathing correctly and I just fixed it."

Snape's frown deepened. "You have no idea what you did, do you?"

Harry's smile had a self-mocking overtone. "Do I ever?"

"Blind, fool luck," Snape said, shaking his head, a grin appearing on his face. He thought for a moment. "Then the Order did arrive? It wasn't too late?"

"I don't remember much of it after...I had to see if you were all right, then someone was calling my name...and I think I must have passed out."

"You shouldn't have checked on me. You should have got out of there as soon as Voldemort was dead," Snape groused.

"I wasn't going to leave you there!" Harry protested. "You weren't dead. If I had left you there, someone would have finished the job."

"Still," Snape said, frowning. "I suppose it makes no matter, as it's over and done, and considering the outcome I shouldn't complain." Snape thought for a moment and sighed. "I have to go back. Turn myself in."

"What!" Harry yelped, suddenly sitting up. He gazed desperately at Snape; his own eyes searching the older man's for some hint of a lie. "Are you joking?"

"If I don't go back, not only will I be hunted for the rest of my life, but so will you! You helped me escape, Potter. Until I go back, you're wanted as well. I'll not let you spend your life as a fugitive. I knew the consequences of my actions, as did Dumbledore," he said, shrugging.

"You'll be sent to Azkaban!"

"It's not as if I haven't done things in my life that would put me there regardless," Snape said tiredly. "If any of the Death Eaters that were on the tower the night I killed Dumbledore are still alive, no doubt that are telling anyone and everyone that I murdered him."

Harry was at a loss. "And you thought I had given up. Now here you are, alive, something you obviously never planned on regardless of what you told me. You owe me, Snape. What the hell else have you been lying to me about?"

"Would you rather spend your life on the run, or face up to your actions? I am not a coward, Potter," Snape said angrily, "and I won't be judged as one!"

"Why can't we just stay here," Harry muttered petulantly. He ran a hand through his hair and gazed out across the room. "It isn't fair."

"Life is seldom fair," Snape said derisively, not for the first time. "Honestly Potter, would you rather we went on the run? Is that really how you want to live the rest of your life?"

"Yes," he said honestly, and he felt that way too. He'd rather live his life on the run than go back and face the people he had betrayed.

Snape rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You, Potter, are many things, but a coward isn't one of them. For good or ill, I'll be going back with you, so you won't be alone."

"Do we have to go today?"

Snape sighed, not quite wishing to rush back into the arms of the Ministry. One day would hardly matter, and he had a feeling that Potter needed it. "No, we don't have to go today, though you should probably owl your friends and let them know you're all right. I wouldn't mention being with me."

"They already know," Harry said with a helpless shrug. "Unless Remus didn't tell them, which I doubt. The Ministry knows as well."

"Lupin knows?" Snape asked, surprised. "What did you tell him?"

"Only the things he needed to hear. He suspects other things as well, but those I'm certain he won't mention." Harry grinned sheepishly. "He took me to see you; he was the only one who would."

"Ah, so this," he said, motioning around them, "is Lupin's fault. Remind me to thank him," Snape said sarcastically, but there was no bite to it. One day he and the werewolf would talk, but it wouldn't be anytime soon. "What do you think he suspects?" Snape asked curiously.

Harry flushed and looked away embarrassed. "Things," he replied vaguely.

Snape's brow arched. "What things, Harry?"

"Just things, Severus."

"By 'things', am I to assume you mean that I kissed you, Harry?"

"You may be assuming correctly, Severus. But you know what they say about people who assume."

"That they make an ass out of you and me?" he said, smirking.

Harry grinned widely. "And people doubt your sense of humor."

"It is at times too black to understand," Snape admitted, but he was pleased that Harry had learned to appreciate it. "Again, what does Lupin suspect?"

Harry licked his lips slowly before answering. There were things he just wasn't willing to share with Snape, the same things he probably shouldn't have shared with Remus. Harry felt guilty enough about making the older man his accomplice. "He suspects there's something between us. It might not have helped that I kicked all the Aurors out of the room."

"Oh that's just lovely. Lupin thinks I have deflowered the Boy Who Lived," he said, laughing darkly.

Harry paled. "I hope for his sake and ours he doesn't."

Snape placed a pale hand across his chest in mock indignation. "You've spoiled all my plans to ruin and ravage you." Snape sighed. "Such a pity."

Harry stared at him with a neutral expression for the longest moment, before a small smirk formed on his face. "You had plans?"

"Well no, not as such, but they seem to be forming against my better judgment," Snape said, frowning.

"Most good plans are," Harry said aiming at sage and falling somewhere short of a bad cliché.

"Tell me, Potter, what is your current stand on fucking?" Snape asked, as casually as he'd ask about the weather.

Harry's eyes widened and his mouth hung open in shock. He suddenly felt extremely shy. How could he tell Snape that while he had the entire population of the wizarding world at his beck and call he had never once had sex with anyone. "I-uh-that is to say..."

"Virgin, then. Pity," Snape replied, sighing melodramatically.

"Hey!" Harry cried out indignantly.

"It was merely an observation, Harry, nothing more," he said, a sickly smile on his lips.

"Since when do you call me Harry?" Harry questioned petulantly, his cheeks stained a seemingly permanent red.

"Since when do you actually listen to what I say?" Snape returned. "Merlin, Potter! Your ears are as red as Weasley's hair."

"Stuff it, it's all your fault anyway! Make me feel bad about myself, that's not the best way to make me want to fuck."

"I never said that I wanted to fuck, Potter, I just asked what your current stand was on the matter," Snape said reasonably. "Since apparently Lupin thinks that we are already doing so."

"Same difference," muttered Harry, his entire face going as red as a ripe tomato.

"If you believe that to be true, you're sorely lacking in sexual education," Snape said, lip curled in amusement. "But we have strayed off topic. Did the Aurors confiscate my wand?" he asked, feeling about his person but finding nothing.

Harry shrugged. "I don't remember seeing it, even during the battle. But I would guess so."

"Oh, right," Snape replied, frowning. "The Dark Lord snapped it in half. I had forgotten," he said, wondering what other little details he had forgotten. "You do still have yours, correct?"

Silence hung between them for a long moment. Harry bowed his head, and rubbed his arm dejectedly. "No...shit!" His eyes snapped open and he glanced to where Hermione's wand had rolled to a stop.

"What did you do now?"

Harry stood up and walked over to the chest of drawers and picked Hermione's thin wand off the floor, he twirled it between his fingers with a sheepish expression. "I sort of took Hermione's wand."

Snape snorted. "I don't imagine Miss Granger was pleased with that. Did the Ministry take your wand?" he asked curiously. "It would make sense. You save their collective lives and they take away your wand."

"No, it shattered. I doubt there's much more than a couple of toothpicks left of it anymore."

"You don't do things by half, do you, Potter?" Snape said, looking at him thoughtfully. "Wands are replaceable, your life is not."

"I'm useless now. What's the difference?"

Snape's head snapped in Harry's direction. "Why in the bloody hell would you say that?"

"I performed my bloody life task, so now what? I'm a waste of space. I've had no doubt since I was thirteen that I would probably die in the final battle. And I'm still here, and I have no purpose!"

"Good Lord, Potter, must you be so melodramatic?" Snape asked. "If anything, your life can finally begin. The one dark cloud that has followed you since the day Voldemort killed your parents is gone. You can do whatever you want!"

Harry stared at him. "I don't know what to do."

"Who says you have to decide today? Merlin, Potter! You're financially stable, moderately intelligent, and right now the hero of the bloody world. There's very little that you cannot do right now."

Harry sighed and shrugged again, sitting down heavily on the bed. He looked up at the white, bumpy ceiling and fell backwards, his head landing three inches from Snape's leg. He glanced up at the older man with a small smile. "Did you just encourage me not to think?"

"Frightening, isn't it?" Snape replied, a genuine smile on his face. He reached out and brushed Harry's fringe out of the way, and traced his scar with a long finger. "How does it feel?" he asked softly.

"Good, I wouldn't even know it's there now without a mirror."

Snape nodded, his hand falling to the bed beside Harry's head. He turned his arm slightly to look at the Mark. If he'd had his wand, he would have tried to get rid of the thing altogether, but as it was that would have to wait. Then again, he may never freely have a wand again. Snape gave a mental shrug. Having the reminder of his own stupidity was its own kind of penance.

"Can- will you get rid of it?" Harry questioned softly, meeting Snape's eyes and holding.

"I considered it," he said, frowning as Harry's eyes locked with his own. "But I cannot hide from my own past, cannot erase the wrongs I have committed. So no, I think I'll keep it. When I'm sitting in Azkaban, it will remind me..." he trailed off and shook his head. "I won't be getting rid of it."

"You won't be going to Azkaban," Harry stated quietly, but the determination shining fiercely in his eyes told Snape just how serious he was being. There was no way in hell he was going to let him go to Azkaban. He would not allow it, and like Snape said, he was a bloody hero and he could get whatever he wanted.

"There may not be anything you can do to stop it," Snape said simply. He was nothing if not a realist.

"But I will damned well fight them with everything I have." He stared up at Snape pensively, his fingers drawing lazy designs on the coverlet. He reached up with his other hand and tucked Snape's hair behind his ear idly.

Snape wouldn't argue with him, there was no point. They would never agree, not on this. He was surprised when Harry brushed the hair from his face. He intercepted Harry's hand with his own, holding it for a moment before kissing the backs of his fingers.

Harry's cheeks flushed light pink and he smiled lazily.

Snape smiled softly, squeezing Harry's hand before placing it on Harry's chest, and releasing it.

Harry sat up and scooted backwards until his legs were almost entirely on the bed. He rested a hand on Snape's leg hesitantly and when it wasn't brushed aside, he relaxed.

Snape looked at the hand on his thigh, then at Harry, his brow slightly furrowed. He studied Harry's expression for a few long moments before leaning forward and kissing him softly. Snape pulled back enough to search Harry's face for signs of revulsion.

"You keep looking at me like I am going to run," Harry murmured, squeezing Snape's thigh gently. He leaned forward and brushed his lips across the older man's before pulling back. "Why?"

The furrows in Snape's brow deepened at the question. "Because if you had any sense at all, you would," Snape answered. "Are you sure you want..." he couldn't bring himself to say 'me', "…this?"

"'This?'" Harry quirked a brow and smirked. "You mean you?" He leaned forward slightly, not close enough to kiss but close enough to whisper. "The answer is yes. Isn't that crazy?"

"Insane," Snape murmured, closing the distance between them, reaching up and curling his fingers in the hair at the nape of Harry's neck. He took his time, kissing Harry slow and deep, reveling in the taste and smell that was all Potter.

Harry broke away laughing and he could not seem to stop. He gave Snape a semi-helpless look before he pressed his forehead into Snape's neck.

Snape shook his head and looked up toward the ceiling as Harry buried his face in his neck, laughing. Normally he would have been offended, or insulted, but considering the circumstances all he could do was smile. Before he could even blink his smile turned into a chuckle as Harry's body trembled with laughter.

There was nothing particularly funny about the situation, but the two continued to laugh for no other reason than it felt good. Snape knew that he was most likely going to be sentenced to life in Azkaban, if not death, but he had fulfilled his promise to Albus. Voldemort was gone and the boy had survived, by dumb luck more than anything else, but he'd survived. Harry would make sure the Order took care of the remaining Horcruxes, and Snape could only hope they left the boy alone. He deserved to have a life, a normal life; though that was unlikely given who Potter was. No matter what happened tomorrow, they had tonight to just be, and for that, he was content.

END

* * *


End file.
